The Game of Hide and Seek
by Shine Q
Summary: 3x4: Trowa is a chemist working for a top quality research company who one day finds the lab being robbed. The thief, who robs the place on a regular basis, has the biggest crush on him. Trowa has to decide... will it be the sexy thief or his employer?
1. Prologue

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Prologue)**

Trowa Barton was a romantic in every sense of the word. He wanted nothing more than a quiet, satisfying relationship that involved walks on the beach, candlelight dinners, intimate conversations, and sweet, tender love-making. His ideals did get somewhat complicated considering the fact that he hadn't been in a serious relationship in so long. Although he prided himself on his sincerity and kindness, he was never successful in building any lasting connections. He was confident although a bit shy, witty although very quiet. He was handsome and charming, but he was just too inhibited.

"Go take a chance," his sister always said. "That way you won't turn out to be such a bore."

After several years of persuasion, he finally did. Leaving the small town he grew up in, Trowa moved into the big cities where the opportunities were said to be boundless. His sister Catherine mourned his leaving, but she was just as happy to see him do something that was different for a change.

Of course, the city didn't turn out the way he expected it to be. With several people vying for limited jobs, Trowa was left to wander from employer to employer simply to survive the numerous bills that came in through the mail everyday. It didn't help much either that his hard-earned degree was going to waste. It took weeks of perseverance, but after long days of searching, Trowa finally landed himself a real job.

The Quinn Laboratories Inc. was said to be one of the most successful research companies. The company worked mostly with biological and pharmaceutical innovations. That fact alone seemed like a miracle, considering that he'd never had any experience to qualify for the new job. Catherine was ecstatic and he satisfied.

The days passed by quickly since that day and all the earlier introductions were forgotten. Trowa was able to transition into his new work place successfully although he had a bit of trouble with his co-workers. He acknowledged the fact that they respected him but also noticed that they barely approached him. One could also say that his cold exterior halted any further attempts to get to know him better.

Nevertheless, his job was satisfying because he was able to do something with the education he worked hard for and he was also left alone to make his own discoveries. Trowa was a chemist you see and the ability to work alone was considered an advantage. This was where his expertise lay, considering that he could work hours on end without once talking to anyone.

Much like his former situation though, his life was a bore with nothing more than the occasional praise by his superiors. It wasn't until that fateful day that his life turned more chaotic than he expected.

It was a rainy day when his exploits began. After consuming his tasteless but acceptable lunch, he made his way to one of the smaller labs to continue his work. That day, they were testing vaccinations for the laboratory mice in order to combat a rarer influenza that had just recently appeared in isolated areas. Picking up one of the rodents, Trowa reached over for a dropper and dipped it in what he hoped was the right vial only to find that the said bottle was no longer there. He doubted that he left it elsewhere and began looking around the area and discovered that it was nowhere to be found despite his clear memory of where he had left it.

What he found stranger even was the swift passage of something black moving in the periphery of his vision. Thinking it was nothing more than a trick of the light, Trowa ignored it for the time being and put the ill mouse back in the cage. He walked out the door and into the hallway with every intention of treating the mice as soon as he found the vaccine. The mice were sick after all and it was his job to find that which would no longer make them suffer anymore than they had.

He continued across the hallway and stopped in front of the door to the higher security labs where he was sure the other vaccines were located. Swiping his ID through a card slot, he waited for the massive door to open and was surprised to find two unconscious bodies on the floor. His immediate response was to check their pulse for signs of life. When he was sure that they were simply unconscious and not in grave danger, he walked around the area to look for the criminal, just in case he wasn't too late. It wasn't such a bad idea at that time but then again, he wasn't thinking. When he reached one of the darker corners, he noticed the quick and precise movements of someone who was attempting to escape. He decided, despite warnings from his common sense, to call out.

"Stop!" he said and was rewarded with the obedient halting of the thief's movements. The criminal turned around to face him, but he didn't see anything clearly save for the illuminated eyes of the thief as they blinked.

"Oh wow!" the thief said in a voice so hypnotic he almost forgot that he was dealing with a criminal. Just what was meant by the comment, Trowa could not decipher. He thought about it quickly and decided that it was just a trick to catch him off guard.

"Come out where I could see you," Trowa commanded. His heart was beating fast, especially since he just realized that he didn't have a weapon in hand.

To his surprise, the thief did obey him for a second time.

"Step into the light," Trowa continued.

The thief did as he was told and placed both hands behind his head while walking forward. Dressed in a tight, black ensemble that clung to every crevice of his body, the criminal glanced at Trowa and blinked again.

"Who are you?" Trowa asked, trying to look as stern as he could without prompting the thief to harm him in any way. In truth, Trowa was so shocked he wanted to slap himself a few times. The man before him seemed to be about his age with the most innocent look that no one would have ever suspected him of being a criminal.

"Yummy, yum, yum..." the thief replied and eyed him from head to toe.

"I asked who you were," Trowa demanded while trying to stop himself from salivating. The man's hair was wet, most probably from the rain and it didn't help that he had his hands raised up in a deliciously vulnerable position. What was even more distracting was the movement of the thief as he ran his gloved fingers through his wet hair, every drop of water sliding down his perfectly sculpted face. He was slim and gorgeous in all his criminal glory. Trowa felt the need to convert him into a righteous citizen.

"I'm going to ask you one last time, who are you?"

The figure ignored his question yet again and instead ran his tongue around his already wet lips before starting a whole new conversation of his choice.

"You must be new here," the thief said. "I've never seen you before."

Trowa was alarmed to find that the thief did, without a doubt, lurk around the labs on a regular basis. All previous promises of his employer regarding his safety went down the drain. How exactly was he going to deal with a situation such as this?

"I've always hated nerds before," the thief continued. "But you are one drop dead sexy nerd..."

The thief stepped closer to him, but Trowa couldn't find any useful, non-harmful weapons in sight. He'd be dammed if he ever hit the pretty face so Trowa held his breath and closed his eyes instead. Was his life possibly going to be spared? Was he so stupid that he'd provoke an attack? Catherine was going to mourn if he ever passed away so suddenly, especially when he was so far away.

"...Dr. Barton."

Upon hearing his name, Trowa opened his eyes again, only to be presented with a succulent, wet tongue passing over the stranger's lips. The thief must have read his name plate.

Trowa began to sweat.

"Why, I think I'll have me a taste of that."

His eyes widened when he felt a pair of soft lips on his and almost passed out because of the foreign, heavenly sensation on his lips. When he snapped back to reality, he was surprised to find that the thief was already scaling the walls, on his way to leave through the tiny vents. That's when he finally noticed the vials of vaccine stolen from his lab along with several others secured to the thief's waist. He wasn't just about to let the criminal go.

Before he could scream for help, however, the thief looked back at him with a smile and then winked.

"You taste like peanut butter Dr. Barton. Try not to pack your own lunch next time."

With one final flying kiss, the thief slipped into the impossibly small vent with all traces of his arrival gone except for the two still unconscious bodies and the sweet taste on his lips.

So, he was now hopelessly infatuated with mysterious, sexy-looking men coming in through tiny vents to steal his work. That was only the beginning, the start of an almost mischievous chase that turned his humdrum upside down. It was complicated, but he never knew it was going to get any more complicated than it already was.

That was when it started -- their devilish game of hide and seek.


	2. Part One

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part One)**

Trowa spent half the day trying to identify the suspect with as much detail as he could remember but found that he was so distracted fantasizing about his recent encounter. When he did successfully describe the said criminal, the officers questioning him merely laughed and left him to think about just how naive he was right from the very beginning.

"Are you nuts? I can assure you, Mr. Barton that if you ever give that description again, nobody's going to believe you."

"But that's what he looked like," Trowa insisted.

"Look, I know it's hard to be new in town and all, but the descriptions you gave were pretty absurd. If anything, it's going to get you in trouble. Just call us if you come up with a better one."

Thoughts of paranoia entered Trowa's head and ideas that his co-workers were conspiring against him didn't fall far behind. After all, during the discussion with the police, not once did his injured co-workers confirm any of his claims. It was as if nothing happened to them despite the obvious hit marks that rendered them unconscious.

Now angry more than anything else, Trowa made his way back to his lab to sulk alone or think about the sexy thief, whichever thought came first. He was surprised to find that instead of being greeted by the sight of his lab mice, he had walked right into somebody else's face.

"Ah! Watch where you're going!" the stranger said.

Trowa looked up, or rather, looked up, down, and then up again at the endless length of hair that was stuck on his lab coat.

"Uh, sorry," he said and untangled the braided hair from the button of his coat.

"Geez man, I'm not going to kill you for it," the stranger said. "The name's Duo Maxwell. You must be new here."

Trowa finally looked up to a pair of big, bright eyes that screamed jolly in every possible way. He reached his hand out to take Duo's and was frightened when he was pulled into a tight bear hug instead. Some people were just too touchy.

"Uh, Trowa Barton, pharmaceutical department."

The stranger who Trowa now identified as Duo held him at arm's length and scrutinized his face. He was uncomfortable to say the least, but Duo didn't seem to care.

"You must be the guy who came across Q30ZO."

"Q30ZO?" Trowa questioned. Did he now have to associate the most gorgeous person he'd ever met with the name Q30ZO? What kind of mental image would that bring? It was such a turn off that he didn't even want to think about it.

"Yeah, you're lucky he didn't pound your head to the floor until you forgot how he looked like. That was a pretty accurate description you gave the cops, pal. So tell me, what did they say?"

Trowa had to back up a little. Who was this guy? He just met him and all of a sudden they were pals? Did the guy even work there? What was his purpose?

"Don't look too surprised," Duo said. "Word travels fast around here and since you don't look like you trust me..." Duo placed his ID card right in front of his face. "The name, like I said earlier was Duo Maxwell, computer analyst."

Trowa blinked and then looked at him closely.

"They just laughed and then left," he finally answered.

Duo laughed in response. "I knew they'd do that. You felt pretty stupid, didn't you?"

Trowa nodded but was not exactly pleased with the reaction he got.

"You really are new around here..."

"Uh, why's he called Q30ZO?" Trowa asked. He wasn't about to daydream about some guy who sounded like he was named after a license plate.

"Eh? Oh, that's just his nickname around here."

"So he's around here a lot? Why hasn't be been caught yet?"

"Who knows? Probably because he's invincible? The guy knocked the shit out of me once before, when I was new around here of course. He mentioned something about me being a humungous loud mouth that he had to do it. I was crying for help like a sissy. I'm surprised you didn't scream like a helpless kitten."

"Uh, no."

Trowa was thinking along the lines of kissing rather than beating the crap out of him. He supposed he was lucky that he survived the encounter unscathed. He couldn't fathom how someone that adorably sweet looking could even render someone twice his size unconscious.

"Thanks for the information," Trowa said hastily, all of a sudden remembering the ill mice that were waiting for him in his lab. "I'll, umm, see you around. I've still got work to do."

"Yeah, sure. Just look for me if you need any help!" Duo called out as Trowa left for his intended destination.

When Trowa reached his lab, he was surprised to find the missing vial in the same, exact spot he left it in. If he wasn't too keen, he wouldn't have noticed that although the vial was in the same spot, the label was faced away from him. It was strange for him to think of reasons why the thief would return the vial in the first place. He looked closer and then noticed that it was now half empty.

Shrugging, Trowa opened the bottle labeled Q15NO25 and dipped the dropper in before feeding the substance to the ill mouse. If the thief decided to take only half and leave the rest for him then more power to him. It was no longer his responsibility to make any efforts to describe, catch, or even give information on the events that occurred that day. Nobody seemed to believe him or back him up on it anyway.

The weeks passed, uneventful as they were with no encounters with the thief or the cheerful computer analyst he'd talked to earlier. There were no more strange occurrences although his employer did question him quite a bit about the incident. After ensuring his safety, he was left to do whatever he so desired and was assured that although the thief may at one point in time hit him very hard, he was still going to be alive and well.

"He hasn't killed anyone yet," his employer said. "I doubt he's going to start by killing you."

It wasn't such a great assurance that would have brought about relief, but it worked for him. He was almost sure the thief wasn't going to harm him the way he harmed the others.

Confident as he was, Trowa worked undaunted by anything that came his way. His co-workers found his previous description quite amusing and some envied him for being able to leave the incident unscathed. They asked several questions some of which involved how many ribs of his were broken and how long he was out of it. Of course, he was never harmed in the first place so all his answers ended up to be zero.

It was another week of so before his survival from the encounter was no longer considered a big deal. He was happy to be left alone and took the chance to continue his work in peace. That week, he worked on a different vaccine that was still in the process of being perfected. It didn't work quite as well as he would have wanted it, but he still had an ample amount of time to figure out what was wrong with it. That way, he'd be able to go into the more exciting aspect of his job - making sure it worked on the lab mice.

It didn't take him too long to figure it out. A week later, he was ready to test the substance. After figuring out the right mixture, he placed the new substance in a bottle haphazardly labeled Q01NO23. It was strange. Now that he thought about it, the thief's name sounded like the bottle numbers, only shorter.

"Must be the way they label things around here," Trowa said to himself. He found it quite peculiar and was a bit upset by the fact that the thief was named just like another old vial. That thought alone sparked even more curiosity within him.

"Maybe I should ask Duo," he said to himself.

The opportunity never came and Trowa was left to spend the next few days in the lab alone. The only redeeming value to his solitary labor was that he was working with live creatures. At least they kept him company.

He thought it odd but all of a sudden, he wanted company. He felt a craving for human contact even if it were of the thief he hadn't since forgotten. Once he thought about it, it did happen. After taking a break for lunch like he usually did, Trowa went back to work in the testing facility. Faced with the computer, he typed in a few vital pieces of information and made sure that the final mixture of his discovery was working. He had to be sure before he administered it to the mice.

What he didn't expect was to feel something warm and slimy gliding around his ear while he was busy trying to decipher the amount of chemicals he had just put in the substance. Not thinking whether a slug or a large bug crawled up his ear, he absently whapped his ear to get rid of the annoying distraction.

"Ow, you jerk! That was my face you were hitting!"

"Ah!"

Trowa jumped from his seat and was faced with the thief he had once encountered. He did want to see the man again but not in that way.

There he was, suspended upside down from the ceiling with the thinnest looking string supporting him from its anchor on the ceiling. Just what kind of infiltration method was that? And why on earth was the guy turning his ear into an ice cream sundae?

"Q30ZO?" was the first question that came to Trowa's mind. He wanted to confirm that the thief was identified by that name after all.

"Yes, C3PO. It is I, R2D2." 1

Trowa furrowed his brows in confusion.

"You dolt!" the thief suddenly said. "Don't you get it?"

Trowa shook his head, still confused.

"Never mind. I'm going to forget the fact that you're turning me into a model number. I was just trying to see how your ear tasted like. You smell nice, doctor. What do you use? Dial White Antibacterial soap?"

Trowa nodded. He was good.

"Ohh, sterile... I love it when they're germ-free."

Trowa gaped at him. The way he said it in such an emotive way was just too delicious. He was gorgeous even when he was flipped over. His hair looked so soft hanging from his head that way. The only downside to it was that his face was turning red, probably from the rush of blood being deposited to his head. It didn't help Trowa's brain much that the perfectly sculpted body was still in the tight, black outfit, hanging from the ceiling.

"Do me a favor and hand me that vial, doc," the thief said and Trowa did as he was told with a dumb, hungry look on his face.

The thief transferred half the substance into a bottle of his own with perfect precision although he was positioned upside down. When he was done, he handed the vial back to Trowa and secured his half of the substance into his belt compartment. Trowa wasn't paying attention to any of this though. He was busy imagining himself with the thief in la-la land.

"Thank you so much!" the thief said. "I really appreciate that you're cooperating with me. But then again, I'd never, ever think of hitting that face of yours, handsome."

Trowa nodded like the brainless idiot he was currently being and was rewarded with the thief's response to turn his mouth into an ice cream sundae. It was definitely better than the ear. He tasted like apples but that wasn't important at all.

"Wha..." he said when he felt the mouth disappear.

Trowa snapped back to reality just in time to see the thief disappear up into the ceiling and into the tiny door that opened up into the night sky. The little wiggle the thief did here and there to get out through the tiny hole was unbelievably sexy. Trowa groaned as he watched him leave.

He didn't care if they fired him for giving away their chemicals. The craving he felt for the still unnamed thief was just too irresistible. Trowa was smart though. As he was daydreaming, he was also keeping track of the vaccines that had been stolen so far. Q15NO25 and Q01NO23 were on the top of his list. Just why was the thief called Q30ZO anyway?

1 From Star Wars, just in case you were wondering...


	3. Part Two

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Two)**

His ill attempts to extract necessary information from Duo was proven to be fruitless. Trowa sighed. In the last hour that he talked to Duo, he heard about everything and nothing. Sure, he found out about every single gossip that was going around but he found nothing about the subject he was most interested in.

"...and when he sniffed some of those, you could tell from a mile away. He starts singing in the highest pitch no man or woman has ever heard. You know what I mean, that whole high pitched squeal where all the glass breaks into pieces..."

Trowa found that black was starting to become his favorite color. There was no way in all five hells that he'd be able to sleep that night without imagining the guy stripping the tight outfit right in front of him, never mind the fact that he still identified him as Q30ZO.

"...plus the fact that I hate it when those science-type geeks order me around to fix their computer. They push me around like I was their lap dog. If they think they're so smart then why don't they fix their own computers like the geniuses they are..."

But why steal the vaccines? Was he selling them on the black market? It was conceivable that he was trying to make money off Trowa's work. Which reminded him, was he coming on to him the other day? Trowa just loved the way the thief's tongue was sliding around his ear.

"...and then I should strip naked and dance in front of you to make sure you're still listening..."

His breath was damn hot and the way he moved was so perfect he couldn't help but start to drool at the image. Trowa wondered how they would be like together. He imagined a little bit of cuddling, a lot of kissing and a whole lot of passionate, mind-blowing sex.

"...hello, Earth to Trowa..."

He'd make him breakfast in bed, wrap him up in a blanket and huddle next to him in front of the fireplace. They could talk all day, maybe take a quiet walk on the beach and snuggle further.

"If you're not going to listen then forget it man. I've been talking here for the last half hour and you don't even look like you're listening."

"Huh?" Trowa finally said, getting his mind back to the present.

"I've been trying to wake you out of that stupefied state for about ten minutes now. Are you alright?" Duo asked.

Trowa thought it best to keep his little fantasies a secret and just nodded a yes. He was so engrossed in the images he had in his head that he wasn't able to do what he intended to do in the first place. He wanted to learn more about the whereabouts and thieving methods of Q30ZO just to satiate his curiosity for the time being.

"Uh, I just got impatient waiting for you to answer my question," Trowa said.

"I just did, several times over!" Duo said in disbelief while raising his hands in the air in defeat.

"You were talking about a dozen different people. I didn't know which one he was from all that."

"Geez, you came in here and said, tell me about the guy," Duo said. "So, I told you about the guy but I didn't know which one so I decided to tell you about all the possible guys around here so I could cover your question."

"Uh..." Trowa didn't know exactly how to respond to that. He guessed that Duo was stranger than he looked. "I was asking about the guy who comes here to steal?"

"Oh that one!" Duo exclaimed and then punched his shoulder. "You have to give more info over here. I can't read your mind you know."

Trowa nodded and then waited for the answer. Hopefully, he was going to get more substance this time around.

Just as Duo opened his mouth, a message window popped up in his computer screen and his attention was immediately diverted from Trowa to the computer.

you there? it read.

"Hold on, I have to take this one," Duo excused himself. "Make sure you don't peek. It's confidential material, if you know what I mean."

Trowa nodded.

yup -- need more? Duo typed in.

yeah -- think I need to up the dose -- doesn't work as well anymore

it's already pretty high -- think you could handle it

who do you think you're talking to

even superman has his weaknesses

superman's overrated

fine -- but you better pace yourself -- the stuff could kill a cow

too bad -- I'm not a cow

compartment B56 -- make it quick -- I've got company

I know -- he's reading over your shoulder

"What?" Duo said and turned his head to find a sheepish looking Trowa. "Damn, I told you not to look. You have absolutely no patience. Well, it's your funeral. I think you're going to have to be killed now. You've seen too much man. It was great knowing you."

Trowa had to back up a bit. Duo looked dead serious and he didn't like it one bit. Did he happen to stumble upon a secret organization or possibly Duo's secret life of crime? He hoped that they would at least give him a head start in his escape before they came after him.

nah -- I'm letting him go -- damn sexy ass isn't meant to be slaughtered

He felt even more nervous when Duo laughed. Did that mean they were sadists and they were going to get rid of him in a very violent way? Trowa practically jumped when Duo grabbed him. What he didn't expect was for him to be shoved in front of the computer screen.

When he realized no harm had come to him, he looked at the screen to read what it said. He did feel a little relived that he wasn't going to lose his life yet, but the last line spurred something in him.

"Is that?" Trowa asked.

you bet handsome -- could you move over to the left and take out that silly lab coat -- I want a better view of that ass

Trowa turned around and found the same, elusive thief smiling at him from the second floor of the storage facility. The man opened the supposedly secure compartment with nothing more than a paper clip. Trowa chose to watch him in action. Duo, however, wasn't paying much attention to the occurrences behind him and continued typing instead.

you left him intact -- several times -- but you put me in a hospital for a week

do I sense jealousy

Trowa squinted his eyes and watched as the thief typed something into a tiny device.

shut up smart mouth -- and get out of here before security figures it out

alright -- but Q30ZO? -- honestly, you could've given me a better name

why should you care -- that's your name around here after all

but it sounds drab -- what the hell kind of sexy images come up with the name Q30ZO

a vacuum cleaner -- now make it quick

what's his first name

it's none of your business -- leave it at that

why are you so pissy today

because you're such a flirt -- and he's not interested

says who

me -- now time to leave -- I've bought you enough time already

fine you grump -- I'm done

Trowa continued watching the thief in fascination as he climbed up the walls and suspended himself from the ceiling that was very high up from the ground. He stared, mesmerized yet again and concluded that this was hopelessly going to be the case from here on out. He was going to watch everything the thief did without once reporting it.

When the thief realized he was being watched, he gave Trowa another one of his signature flying kisses before letting go of his position high above the ground. Trowa eyes widened. He started to make a run for it to catch the thief but felt foolish when he realized that the man was aiming for the tiny hole on the ground.

"What, is he crazy?" Trowa asked and Duo just shrugged.

"It's the way he does things," Duo answered. "Never use an escape plan more than twice when leaving the same structure."

Trowa closed his eyes and was surprised when instead of hearing a heavy thud, he heard a splash.

"What was that?" he asked again.

"This facility is above water," Duo said. "He's swimming his way out."

Trowa was so concerned with what was happening before his eyes that he didn't even notice Duo's sudden indifference.

"Can he even hold his breath that long?" Trowa asked. He was feeling anxious, worried, and angry at the reckless behavior all at the same time.

"Who knows? If he thinks he's God then he probably can. What's wrong with you? You're acting like you're his mother."

"Well he sure needs one to twist his ear!" Trowa said in disbelief. If Cathy ever found him doing something that reckless then she wouldn't even let him out of her sight until he promised he was going to be careful.

"Calm down Tro. You wanted to know about him right? Well, today's your lucky day because that whole performance you just witnessed was essentially him in a nutshell."

Trowa nodded absently, but it didn't mean that his heartbeat was slowing down. Knowing that if he didn't leave, he'd end up making a fool of himself in front of Duo, he excused himself. He wasn't in the mood for any more talking. He did indeed find out so much information that he didn't know what to think. His emotional outburst that although seemed pretty calm, was in reality the biggest reaction anyone had ever seen of him.

He was angry, angry that the man was irresponsible, angry that he was obsessed with a drug addict. Just what did the thief need the chemicals in compartment B56 for anyway? Was it giving him a temporary high that he'd return again and again to get more of it in larger doses?

Only rash, simpleminded explanations came to mind and through the haze of anger, Trowa imagined the thief drugged out of his mind in a street somewhere. He imagined him selling his formulated vaccines to some thugs when he was strapped for cash. That was not a life Trowa wanted to see him in and the first thing that came to mind was the word 'conversion'. Trowa wanted to drag him to the closest rehabilitation center and have him locked up in there until he finally realized his wrongdoings.

If Q30ZO couldn't give up his thirst for the drug or his desire to be foolishly reckless then he was going to find a way. That and he wanted to get the man to stop jumping around long enough so he could kiss the brains out of him.

All 500 thoughts that revolved around the mysterious thief kept on entering in and out of his head throughout the day and into the night. When he arrived home that night, he couldn't concentrate on anything. Having no more constructive things to do, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall until he fell asleep. He didn't even realize that his eyes were closed and that he was already dreaming.


	4. Part Four

_Note:_ Before reading this part, please note that _The Game of Hide and Seek Part 3_ is located at my site. Part 3 is a lemon. Please be warned. For those who'd prefer a quick summary of part 3: Quatre sneaked into Trowa's apartment during some ungodly hours, intending to spend the night with him. Quatre deliberately left no trace of himself or the incident. As part four starts, Trowa vaguely remembers what happened the night before.

oOo

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Four)**

When Trowa woke up the next morning, he was disappointed to find that his dream was just a dream and that the thing he was currently cuddling was just a pillow which neither smelled nor looked like the thief he'd dreamed of.

"...too good to be just a dream," he whispered into the pillow.

Just as he said it, he realized that he was fully clothed despite clearly remembering that he went to bed in his boxers. Another mystery to him were the sheets that were currently on the bed. He could tell, without a doubt that they were blue cotton before he went to bed but now the sheets were flannel. He didn't remember taking the extra effort to change the night before and he was sure he didn't take any medication to cause any confusion such as the one he was now experiencing. Sure, the sheets and pajamas were his, but it was still odd that he'd woken up to something completely different.

"I must be going crazy," he murmured to himself.

Hitting his head with his hand a few times, he dismissed the confusion as part of his imagination and made a move to leave the bed. Only, instead of going straight to the bathroom, he paused as he looked at the newfound evidence not far away. There on one of the chairs were his sheets from the night before and his underwear neatly folded. He picked them up. They smelled like fabric softener too. Was it possible? Was it really a dream or did it really happen? And how did the thief know where he lived?

Alarmed at the implications of the laundered sheets, he sat back down and tried to think back to the events of the night before. Slowly, it came to him. He remembered particularly about the thief's comment about not leaving any evidences behind.

"Oh," Trowa said. It was like an epiphany, a bad epiphany. He was never fond of one night stands and it was exactly the situation he found himself in. He was crestfallen and above all else, he was disappointed that the thief didn't at least leave his scent behind. That would have been good enough for him.

Satisfied but still a little annoyed at yet another one of the man's irresponsible escapades, Trowa made his way to the shower as he remembered the intense love-making the night before. He reprimanded, if only in his head, the reckless thief involved in it.

The first half of his day was rather uneventful with the usual lab work and the now compulsory conversations with Duo. Not once did he mention what happened the night before, but it was probably apparent that Duo was catching up with him. He certainly didn't know if Duo could tell but he still felt like all eyes were on him.

"You sure you've got nothing new to tell me?" Duo asked.

"No."

"Oh, which reminds me, the big boss wants you dressed decently tonight. He's bringing you to the big science-type convention. Something about you being one of the best in the field - some kind of vaccine or something that's supposed to cure who knows what. Yeesh, you never told me you were that great. You know, I could've boasted about you being my best buddy if you told me how much stuff you've done. I'm thinking it must have to do with your deliberate solitary confinement."

Trowa had to listen clearly to decipher which part of the message was the most important.

"I have to do what?" he asked to verify.

"Weren't you listening? You have to go somewhere with the boss tonight."

"Please define tonight," Trowa said, a bit annoyed that he wasn't told earlier.

"Umm, in about two hours."

Trowa jumped from his seat and made a mad dash toward the locker rooms.

"You owe me big time," he yelled before his voice was drowned out as he ran further out into the corridors.

That same night, he was dressed in a tux with a pair of shiny black shoes to match. It had been a miracle that he'd found the time to rent his attire, bathe himself and get ready for the event in the two hours he was running around. Duo was just a little too forgetful sometimes.

"I'm glad you could make it, Trowa," his employer said as Trowa walked toward the older man.

"Just barely," Trowa answered, making one final check to make sure that he wasn't as disorganized as he was when he stepped into his car earlier.

"Will you be ready to present your work?"

Trowa looked up, too surprised to even protest. Did Duo just happen to leave out a very important detail?

"But my findings haven't even been published yet," he answered in hopes that he could save himself from the predicament.

"No worries then. I was just trying to estimate how nervous you were tonight. You don't have to present anything. I brought you here merely to introduce you to others working in the same field. Our benefactor will also be present and I thought it would be nice for him to meet one of our most valued specialists."

Trowa had to look away. Handling compliments were never his forte and most of the time he just ended up embarrassing himself so he decided to say as little as he could.

"Thank you," he said, still looking away.

Just what he did to deserve the praise, Trowa could not remember. Did he just happen to save humanity? Was he so popular all of a sudden just because he cured a couple of lab mice? And why was everyone starting to approach his employer? Was Dr. Quinn that popular? Come to think of it, Catherine did mention something great about the company he worked for.

"Congratulations on your continued success Dr. Quinn," a man Trowa recognized as a very popular scientist in the field of biochemistry said.

"Ah, but these young ones are the ones who cultivate the field," his employer answered, gesturing toward him.

Trowa felt uncomfortable yet again.

"Is this the genius who works in your lab?"

"Why yes. I brought him along so he could discuss his discoveries."

Trowa wanted to pull on his collar. He was surrounded by old men, possibly some of the best minds in the industry and he had to explain elementary findings to them. They just might end up laughing at him.

"Would you like to join us at our table?" they asked him and there was no reason to refuse. At least he wasn't going to be left alone while the crowds mingled amongst themselves. It was very difficult for him to be alone with so many strangers after all.

One hour and a full glass of alcohol later, Trowa was a lot less inhibited. In fact, he discovered some newfound charm that attracted every single eye on the table. All eyes were glued to him. He was so engrossed discussing his work that he didn't even notice that a crowd was starting to gather around him. All of a sudden, his boring ideas were a hit. It was almost thrilling to have so much power over the brilliant scientists surrounding him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be there after all.

"He's here," Trowa heard someone whisper to his employer's ear while he was in the process of discussing the process of virus degeneration.

"Is that so?" the doctor answered and then looked at him. "If you will excuse us, gentlemen, the great Trowa Barton has yet to meet our benefactor. I'm sure he can continue discussing his theories after."

They both excused themselves and Trowa allowed himself to be lead to one of the less crowded areas in the vicinity. Trowa didn't mind meeting any other strangers after that helpful shot of alcohol. It was like a cure for his anxiety.

"He should be around here somewhere," his employer said as he looked around. When the man did spot his target, he pulled on Trowa's arm although Trowa wasn't paying any attention to what was going on around him.

"Trowa Barton, meet the golden boy billionaire," his employer said when they came to a stop. "This man funds all our research - Quatre Raberba Winner."

Trowa decided to look up to check if the next old coot would look better than those he'd met so far. When he saw just who Mr. Winner was, he couldn't move, talk or even raise his hand to shake the man's hand. Of course, the man looked even more gorgeous in an expensive looking suit. The same, exact hair he'd imagined many times before was combed neatly toward the back although his long bangs came gloriously down his head. He looked like a god.

Finally, the true identity of Q30ZO was revealed and he was damn rich too. Why steal from the company he funded? What was going on? Couldn't he just hand them a wad of cash in exchange for the stuff he stole? And did he hire someone to find out where he lived?

"Do you have an aversion to the wealthy, Dr. Barton?" the man now known by the name of Quatre asked. He was smiling with one elegant brow raised.

Trowa still could not believe it. He felt betrayed, angry, confused, ashamed, and all the little bits of everything else as he looked at Quatre. The man suddenly went from an addicted, lowlife (but sexy) thief to the wealthiest (and let's not forget sexiest) man he ever slept with.

"Please excuse him Master Winner. I'm sure it must be a shock to meet one of the wealthiest men in the planet."

"I'm no different from the rest Dr. Quinn," Quatre answered before his attention was called by someone behind him. He nodded and whispered something back before facing them again.

"Business calls?" Dr. Quinn inquired.

"I'm afraid so," Quatre answered. "I'm sorry to leave so suddenly but I'd like to thank you, Dr. Barton for your excellent work. My family owes you mountains of gratitude for your efforts."

Trowa didn't make a move to talk to him or to even acknowledge anything he said.

"Maybe I'll see you around Dr. Barton," Quatre said and then presented him with the most brilliant smile before turning back and leaving.

If Trowa thought it mature enough, he would have held a tantrum session. He was so livid he saw red. He didn't even bother telling his boss that he needed some air when he left the older man standing as he made his way to the gardens. The flowers might as well have crumbled when he looked at them. There was nothing different about his facial expression but paying attention more closely would help one notice that his eyes said it all. He looked prepared to murder someone.

He kicked a few rocks and stood under a tree to contemplate what had just happened.

"Trowa... I like the way that name slides on my tongue. It might have been very useful as I was trying to find a name to scream out last night."

Trowa looked up the tree with fury in his eyes. He knew just who the voice belonged to. Quatre was perched on a branch of the tree, perfectly balanced as he leaned back and held his jacket in his arms.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me, Trowa?" Quatre asked but didn't sound too disappointed when he said it.

"Don't you Trowa me."

Quatre jumped down from his position on the tree so gracefully that not one leaf was disturbed when he landed. He moved so precisely that it wasn't even possible.

"You're a liar. What business call? You're not even attending to anything."

Quatre leaned on the tree and crossed his arms. He was smiling so much Trowa wanted him to stop.

"I hate the old fart. Besides, I'd rather talk to you privately."

"Quatre, you're such a..."

Before Trowa could continue any further, Quatre put a finger on his lips to stop him. Trowa was confused but didn't protest.

"Finally, I hear you say my name," Quatre said. "That's a relief. I didn't want to hear you groaning Q30ZO. It's such a turn off."

Trowa slapped the hand away from him and then turned his back.

"Are you some rich brat who's got nothing better to do so he just decides to rob his own company regularly just to find something exciting to do? Is this your game? And what the hell is wrong with you and that addiction of yours?"

Quatre's face didn't falter although Trowa never saw it. In fact, he looked more amused than insulted.

"That's the most I've ever heard you say," Quatre said. "You seem to know me so well so I'll trust you to figure it out on your own."

Quatre shrugged his jacket back on and then left him to sulk alone.


	5. Part Five

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Five)**

Quatre secured the trunk of his car, satisfied that he managed to fit the bags of groceries in the limited space. He checked his watch and confirmed that he was just in time to leave. Making himself comfortable inside his car, he put on his sunglasses and started the engine. He had a busy agenda that day. There was no time to waste.

Driving his car out of the driveway, he sped all the way down the small mountain upon which his residence stood. He breathed in the fresh air hitting his face and sighed, watching as the scenery unfolded before him. These were the only moments of relaxation he allowed himself. He reveled in them but never really managed to ignore the little details that always seemed to settle at the back of his mind. That made him restless.

"Duo better be ready," he murmured as he continued his drive. "I'm not waiting more than five minutes."

A relatively short drive later, he arrived at one of the more familiar apartment buildings in the area. He knocked on the door he knew was Duo's as he closed his eyes and waited impatiently. He hoped that Duo was not late this time. There were several instances when he'd almost left him behind. The man had an annoying tendency to be late.

Quatre checked his watch again before leaning back on the wall opposite the door. He was not an impatient man, but circumstances forced him to hurry as if every second counted. With that need for urgency came the burden of company. He began to wonder how he'd managed to keep Duo's companionship despite his complicated lifestyle.

"What's wrong Quat, had a bad cup of coffee this morning?"

Quatre blinked, surprised that he was caught off guard. He knew that he looked troubled but masked it as quickly as he could. Duo always seemed to notice his moods no matter how good he was at hiding them. He was getting better at it as time wore on, Quatre noticed. His sunglasses should have hidden his eyes from view.

"I see _you've_ had your coffee," Quatre said in response, noticing both his friend's energy and unusual punctuality.

"Sure have," Duo answered. "I know you hate it, but you should try it some time."

"I won't. You already know that," Quatre stated flatly before heading to his car. He didn't need to wait long because Duo scrambled to lock his door and hurried to catch up with him. Quatre smirked. There always were certain things that made the man move faster.

When they were both settled in, Quatre stepped on the gas with his next destination in mind. That was when it started, the burdensome onset of his mental schedule choosing that exact moment to take over him. Before long, his brain started to bring up meeting schedules, contract details, cost calculations, and an assortment of information that kept him distracted. He became so far into it that he barely heard the reprimand coming from his companion.

"Have you decided that you're killing me today?" Duo asked, momentarily interrupting his mental thought process.

"What do you mean?" Quatre responded absently while continuing to stare vacantly at the road ahead of him.

"Oh, I don't know. You're driving like you want us both dead on the next turn."

Quatre blinked, this time completely distracted from his mind's relentless onslaught. His immediate response was to step on the brakes as he checked the speedometer before him. He was going over the speed limit without even noticing. Had he been alone, he could have massacred a number of pedestrians.

"Sorry. I forgot you were with me," he said, checking Duo's reaction from the corner of his eye. The man looked mortified, causing him to feel a little guilty for causing such a response.

"Yeah, that's it. You drive like a crazed psychopath when you're alone. I'm honored you care enough about the safety of little 'ol me to slow down." Duo said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but Quatre paid no heed to it.

"I just got a little distracted," he answered, leaving the details of the distraction out. Duo tended to worry and his excessive worrying often lead to incessant nagging.

Duo grinned, he noticed, but refused to look at him. It was clear that Duo did not want his attention to be diverted from driving again.

"So," his companion for the morning started. "How did it go with our resident chemist the other day?"

Quatre shrugged, no emotion showing on his face.

"He's pissed."

"I'm surprised he didn't know who you were already, but I guess the way he described you to the cops without thinking that he'd sound like an idiot was proof enough. He didn't even know why they didn't believe him," Duo said, looking like he was on the verge of laughter. "I also expected he'd be pissed, you know. The guy has the highest set of morals. It's completely beyond your capacity."

Duo put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, seeming to enjoy his victory. Quatre snorted, knowing that Duo felt smug. His companion always loved it when he thought he was right, especially when it came to discussions with him.

"You've only got half the story down," Quatre said as he turned a corner.

"What? Don't tell me you had him fuck you already."

"This guy doesn't fuck," Quatre replied matter-of-factly. "He makes love, hence the pissed off mood when he found out who I was."

"You mean he's concluded that you're a rich, selfish little boy who hops from bed to bed for thrills?"

"Seems so."

Duo laughed so hard he was holding his stomach. He knew that there were only two things Quatre didn't do - commitments and 'love'-making. He assumed that Trowa wouldn't be able to handle it if he ever found out.

"Maybe I should've told you that he was suspended yesterday," Duo added, almost as an afterthought.

"Why, may I ask, was the moral scientist punished?"

"He was trying to open the high security storage compartment with a paperclip," Duo answered, again trying to hold his laughter.

It was Quatre's turn to laugh.

"You could have told him that my 'paperclip' had a descrambler."

"Where's the fun in that? The guy's obsessed with you, you know."

"So are half the people I meet," Quatre answered frankly with no hint of arrogance. There was no denying what was true.

"I'm not trying to state a simple fact here," Duo said, supporting the point he was trying to make. "This guy is doing a lot of amateur investigation to find the supposed answers to your corruption. The guy never speaks more than a few sentences, but all of a sudden, he's following me around asking questions. He even has that little clipboard of his. I'm starting to find it very disturbing."

Quatre grinned.

"He must look cute following you around with that clipboard," he said.

"Here we go again..."

"Fine, I'll shut up for now. We're almost there anyway."

There was a moment of silence as Quatre paid attention to the road. All the while, Duo seemed to become serious. Quatre noticed that despite looking like he was staring off into the distance, Duo was observing him. It felt awkward, but Quatre braved it. Those were one of the many things he couldn't stop Duo from doing. Somehow, it felt like it was his right to do so.

"You know," Duo suddenly spoke as they were close to reaching their destination. "This guy looks like a happily-ever-after kind of guy."

"Too bad," Quatre answered as he stepped on the breaks. "He picked the wrong guy. I don't do commitments or happy endings."

Duo sighed and then flicked his long braid back. Quatre knew that Duo was a little annoyed with him because he was an impossible person to talk to. Not only was he detached, he also refused to provide further information as if he always needed to hide something. He knew it was rude, especially when dealing with a long-time acquaintance. Duo didn't deserve it, but it was what he got out of the relationship anyway.

Quatre dismissed the guilty thoughts. Sometimes, it only consumed him and distracted him from what he needed to do. He was a busy man and sometimes his responsibilities had to take center stage. Quatre fought the urge to sigh and instead exited his vehicle. He was almost sure that Duo was following close behind.

"That's what happens when you fall in love with the devil," he heard Duo whisper. "He refuses to bring you with him to hell."

Acting like he didn't hear a word, Quatre knocked on the front and waited. He heard the pitter-patter of several tiny feet before he came face to face with an old nun. She had a tired but cheerful look on her face as she stopped several tiny bodies from getting passed the door. She was almost losing the battle when Duo's excited voice sounded from behind him.

"Sister, you look more beautiful with each passing day," Duo suddenly greeted from behind. The old nun let go of her defenses and rewarded Duo with a pat on the cheek. This caused a few of the tiny bodies to break free and cling to both of Quatre's legs. A few managed to cling to Duo's as well.

"You never change Duo," the old nun greeted back and then turned to Quatre. "The children will be delighted to see you here again so soon Quatre. Don't worry about anything. I've made sure little Dot isn't near anything sharp this time."

Quatre nodded and then kissed the old nun's cheek. "You didn't have to go through the trouble, Sister. I'm sure she was just a little upset the last time."

Quatre felt Duo send him a disbelieving look as he said it. Still, it was the truth. He held no grudge against the little girl who had injured him severely the week before. It had looked more like a freak accident than anything else. He'd been told that the particular little girl had a penchant for blondes. She liked stabbing them. It was as simple as that.

Despite considering it disturbing, Duo had kept teasing him about his unfortunate injury for the past few weeks. It had been funny when it happened and even funnier when they looked back to it.

"Quatre's a big boy, Sister," Duo quipped. "She can stab his leg with a fork several times over and he won't even flinch."

"Duo, getting stabbed with a fork is no laughing matter!" the old nun reprimanded, unaware that Duo was speaking the truth. She shook her head in disapproval and then punished Duo with a light slap on his arm.

Quatre acted like he didn't hear Duo's comment. Instead of saying anything in response, he entered the house with the weight of three children pulling him down and was greeted by a few others. The rest of them clung to him like leeches. As a response, Quatre's face, which was neutral up until then suddenly brightened up. He flashed the children with a brilliant smile, the same smile that wooed hapless suitors time and time again.

"Uncle Quatre," they called out. "How's your boo-boo?"

"Nothing that can't be patched up with a few bandages," he replied, lifting his pant leg to show proof. The stitches had come off some time ago, but traces of the wound remained.

His audience was in awe. A few even dared to touch it. Quatre laughed as he watched them observe his leg but decided that it would be best to divert their attention to something else. "What were we supposed to do today?" he asked.

"You were going to read us a story," they answered in synchrony.

"Ah, so that was it."

"Where's Uncle Duo?" they asked, almost as an afterthought.

Quatre pointed toward the door where Duo was discussing something with the old nun, the orphanage's caretaker. When Duo noticed that he was being stared at by dozens of expectant children, he waved his hand and excused himself from the conversation.

"I'm beginning to think you like Quatre better," Duo said as he approached, picking up one of the smaller children.

"Uncle Quatre needs a protector so we're going to protect him."

Duo grinned, attempting to stop himself from laughing. They were a lot more protective of Quatre than they were of him. It must have been the façade of innocence and vulnerability that fooled them. Oh, if they only knew.

"Alright, I want half of you to guard Quatre and the rest of you to come with me."

"But..."

This time Duo did laugh. Quatre's looks were powerful. Sure, he could live a criminal life, but no one would ever believe he'd do such things even if they did catch him in the act. All he had to do was bat those pretty eyelashes.

"You promised me we were going to play hide and seek," Duo whined to counter the children's reluctance. It always worked with them. Everyone eventually gave in to his requests.

"Ok, but are you sure it's alright?"

"Of course it is!"

Not long after, the big group was separated into two with half listening to Quatre's story and the other half playing with Duo. Quatre did not mind the extra company, but Duo insisted that it was not safe. Knowing that starting an argument over how he could take care of himself was pointless, Quatre settled with what his companion suggested. During that time, he felt Duo's eyes on him and not once had the urge to scream. After being around him for so long, it had become pretty obvious to Duo when he was injured. Many arguments had already come out of that.

He touched his side, noticing that it still stung from the night before. He had been careless to leave through the underground water system. A broken fence had cut his side. The wound was taken care of, but Duo's peace of mind still needed reassurance.

Sending Duo a signal, Quatre pulled on his thick sweater to show him that he was wearing 'protective' clothing that could buffer any impacts. In addition, he sent a look Duo's way and wordlessly requested that he stop scrutinizing him.

Duo frowned but stopped looking at him anyway. Quatre sighed in relief and was surprised when he looked back to the number of expectant eyes waiting for him to continue with his storytelling.

The rest of their morning was uneventful with the children calmer than usual and the infamous little girl behaving so well it was almost frightening. Before they left, Quatre retrieved the bags full of groceries from his car with Duo's help and handed the supplies to the old nun. After they were through, Duo distributed the treats to the children while Quatre discussed more important matters with their caretaker.

"Just tell me if you need any more," Quatre said as he handed her a check.

"Your help is already too much, Quatre," she said, accepting the offered help. "I really can't thank you enough."

"You should thank Duo," Quatre answered as he watched Duo secretly hand the children forbidden candy. "It was his idea after all."

"I'm grateful for him too," she said and then paused to examine him. "He's only worried about you," she added, probably witnessing their earlier exchange.

"I know," Quatre mumbled. "But it isn't his job to take care of me."

"You'll find someone to fill in that job soon enough," she answered and sent him on his way.

Quatre didn't say anymore and instead gave her a warm farewell hug. He then waved to the children, making sure that Duo was following behind him. A few of them followed out the door and waited until they were settled inside the car.

Quatre started the engine and waved one last time before backing out of the driveway.

"Thanks," Duo said without looking at him. "...for supporting them."

"Don't mention it," Quatre answered as he put his sunglasses back on. "You've thanked me enough already."

The rest of their drive was rather quiet with the usual sounds of engines accompanying the almost humming sound of Quatre's car. When they arrived, Duo got out of the car without a word.

"See you next week," Quatre said before Duo walked too far off.

When Duo turned around, Quatre tossed him a bag of treats.

"Gummy bears?" Duo said. "Thanks Quat!"

"No problem," Quatre said and then drove off with his next destination in mind. He estimated that if he finished buying his groceries before lunch time, he'd be able to arrive just in time for work.

All the time he was going through his schedule, his thoughts strayed to the angry chemist who was getting himself into a dangerous predicament. There were always consequences to face when being involved with him.


	6. Part Six

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Six)**

After dropping Duo off, Quatre drove a little further to stop by a grocery store and pick up a few things. As he stepped in, huge fans blew air down on his head, ruffling the once neatly combed locks. He ran his hand through his hair, annoyed that he'd managed to look messy very early in the morning. Even his clothes were in disarray from being pulled on by dozens of little fingers. He didn't like being untidy, especially when overzealous tabloid reporters might be hiding in the corners.

"I'm changing after picking up food anyway," he reasoned to himself, ignoring his appearance for the time being. Running through his mental list one last time, he picked up a basket and walked to the far end of the supermarket. The fresh produce section was always first on his list.

"Apples," he murmured and then tore a bag from the huge roll of plastic easily accessible above the shelves. Looking at the texture and color of each fruit, he picked the ones he thought were the best before placing them inside the bag.

"Aren't you supposed to pay people to do this for you?"

Quatre continued picking apples, not looking up at the source of the interruption.

"I prefer to do some things myself," he answered. "How have you been, Trowa?" he continued without looking up.

"Are you stalking me?"

Quatre smiled and tried to stop himself from laughing. He could already imagine Trowa's suspicious look as he said it. The man must have had those same, intense eyes boring through him that instant.

"Am I?" Quatre asked, attempting to play with the far too serious Trowa for a little bit. "...or better yet, are _ you_ stalking _me_?"

Quatre looked up after he said it, his once empty bag now filled with apples. He took the chance to eye Trowa. The man was gorgeous out of his lab coat. He was not dressed to go anywhere special but the faded jeans and dark turtleneck was just as good as anything else. In fact, Quatre spotted signs of well-developed muscle modestly hidden behind the conservative shirt.

"Why would I be stalking you?" Trowa responded, crossing his arms. His grocery basket was left to sit on the floor.

"Oh, I don't know. I think that if we both went to the police right now, they'd believe me more than they would you."

Trowa huffed indignantly and Quatre couldn't help but smile at the cute gesture coming from him, especially since Trowa didn't look like the type to do it.

"Still angry, handsome?" Quatre deemed to ask despite their previous, unpleasant encounter. He needed to make his trip to the grocery quick, but Trowa was an exception. He always had time for the sexy scientist.

"What do you think?"

Quatre paused to examine the way the words were said. Trowa's face was blank, but he looked quite threatening nonetheless. His only visible eye was so intense that it affected Quatre so much. It was like the deep green was trying to convey what his voice couldn't. Quatre was entranced. Those same eyes were what gave him a pause when he first met the man after all.

"You look good," Quatre said, replacing Trowa's negative approach with a more positive one. Pleasant conversations were always more enjoyable and Quatre wanted every interaction with Trowa to be enjoyable. He smiled for the added effect.

He noticed Trowa's rigid stance falter before he completely relaxed his shoulders.

"You don't look so bad either," Trowa responded. His previous irate tone was replaced with calm indifference although he was still a little stiff. Quatre thought it necessary to loosen him up a bit more.

"Look, how about I take you out for dinner tonight as an apology?"

Trowa still looked disinterested. He did not answer the question directly.

"What did you do, take a dive in the dumpster?" he asked.

Quatre blinked, confused from both the change in topic and the strange question. He probably looked sufficiently confused because Trowa pointed at his dark green sweater.

"Oh," Quatre said. He looked down at his clothes to find applesauce, baby drool and other unknown substances adhered to it. The kids did tend to leave their mark. He looked like a mess. His hair was also messy from passing under the huge fans when he entered the building.

"Don't worry," Trowa said while he continued to look down at the mess he was. "You'd look good even if you were dressed in nothing at all."

Quatre blinked again. Did Trowa just show signs of amenity? So, he was possible to tame after all.

"Does that mean we have a truce?" Quatre dared to ask.

"No truce," Trowa answered. "...because from how I see it, there is no conflict. I don't think I'd be able to stay angry at you even if I tried."

Quatre celebrated his modest victory inside his head, glad that Trowa was not the type to hold grudges. He almost assumed that he would have to beg for forgiveness. Trowa seemed as strict as he was intimidating.

"Very well then," Quatre said, delighted by the unexpected outcome. "I'll meet you after work, say around nine?"

"Isn't that a little too late to get out of work?" Trowa asked him, concern written all over his face. Quatre thought it odd that he would react that way to such a simple conclusion. However, he did appreciate the concern.

"I guess it is," he answered reluctantly. Trowa looked at him as if he wanted to reprimand him for working too late. "Will that be too late for you?" Quatre added to make sure Trowa could make it.

"No. I can meet you at nine... if there are any restaurants open that late."

"Oh, I know a few," Quatre assured him before ending the conversation abruptly. He waved a goodbye to Trowa before walking off to gather the rest of the items he needed. After a quick stop for chicken breast, vegetables and some bottled water, he paid for his items and headed for his car. The trip back home wouldn't be too long, but he still needed to attend to his wounds. If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late for work and he certainly didn't want that.

When Quatre arrived home, he did the first thing he always did when he entered his empty house. He picked up a remote control and proceeded to play his choice of loud music. That day it was hard rock. The house shook with the intensity of the sound coming from the powerful speakers. He could hear nothing else, but then again, he really didn't need to.

He made a quick stop at the kitchen to put his groceries in the refrigerator before running up the stairway, stripping his clothes in the process. By the time he entered the bathroom, he was already in the process of unbuttoning his pants and tossing the soiled sweater into the laundry chute.

"I'm getting messier everyday," he reprimanded himself, noticing the wound that was starting to drip down his side.

Getting rid of everything else, he opened the bathroom closet to retrieve a large bottle of alcohol and a bag of cotton balls. He raised an arm up into the air and then faced his right side to the mirror to examine the long, ugly cut that he'd acquired from an earlier trip to the labs, never mind that he was trying to steal something. Somebody should have fixed the bad fencing they had below ground. A loose wire from the fence did a pretty good job of cutting his side. The long gash was proof of it.

The cut was not healed completely, but it did look like it was getting better. It didn't help much either that Trowa was pulling on it during their recent encounter between the sheets. Nevertheless, he couldn't blame Trowa for aggravating his injury. It was so dark that Trowa wouldn't have known it was there anyway.

"Ah! God that stings!" Quatre screamed as he squirted the bottle of alcohol on the wound. The pink liquid, a mix of blood and alcohol, ran down his side, soiling his underwear in the process. He noticed that the stitching job he did earlier that morning was already coming off. There was no choice but to redo it.

He looked up at the clock to estimate how much time he had left - forty-five minutes. It was just barely enough time to complete it. Without wasting any more time, he retrieved one of the many first aid kits he had stored in his bathroom cabinet. He needed to thread the needle before replacing the old stitching.

Cursing a few times while trying to put the thread through the tiny hole on the needle, he took a pair of scissors out of the kit and concentrated again on getting the thread through.

"They should sell these things pre-threaded," he muttered, while continuing to curse.

When success finally came, he put the needle down and proceeded to take out the old stitching. The more difficult task was yet to come. Grabbing the first hard object within his eyesight, he placed the object between his teeth and painstakingly sewed his skin back together. He screamed so much, but his voice could barely be heard through the loud music. It did help somewhat that the background noise was drowning out his inhumane threats and obscene cursing.

"That should do," he proclaimed when he was done, but continued cursing while putting all the materials he used back into place. Sometimes, he still could not imagine how he could do that to himself. Even Duo who had witnessed him do it a few times was more than ready to bring him straight to the hospital.

"Maybe I should follow his advice sometime," Quatre said, smirking to himself. If Duo ever heard what he said, he would surely never hear the end of it. "And now for the clothes."

Opening his closet full of clothing, he almost cursed as realized that he didn't know what to wear. Having too much clothing became a curse sometimes. There were just some days when he wished he could wear anything without the public analyzing him. Unfortunately, it just wouldn't happen.

"So many clothes, so little time," he said, accepting his fate. He turned on a switch, grateful that Duo had a clothes randomizer installed for him. It was expensive, but Quatre considered it worth the price. He hated matching clothes and had more than once left his house with two different pairs of socks on. The machine was reliable, so he had no doubts about anything as the randomizer slowed to a stop.

When it finally stopped, a set of clothing including a suit, a shirt, a tie, some socks, and a pair of shoes were lined up. Not caring whether they even matched or not, he changed into a fresh set of underwear and put the clothes on as fast as he could. With one last stop in front of the mirror, he arranged his hair only to have it come back down to his face.

"I should just have my head shaved," he considered, but dismissed it as soon as he realized what kind of issues would come out of it. Sometimes, he felt like he was owned by the public.

Checking everything twice to make sure that he didn't forget anything, Quatre turned off the stereo and picked out a different set of keys before entering his vehicle. It didn't take long before he drove down the familiar path out of the large gates and into the street.

"The tickets, the tickets," he kept on repeating to himself as he stirred the wheel and opened the glove compartment at the same time. "They better be here."

When he found them, he sighed in relief and reminded himself that he still had to pass by a flower shop. Not long after, he arrived at his office building with a bouquet of roses and two theatre tickets in hand. Many of his employees greeted him and a few simply could not catch up as he waved and ran into the elevator just before it closed.

"Ready for the meeting?" one of his associates asked.

"I just have to do one last thing and then I'll be ready."

Almost everyone going in and out of the elevator eyed the roses he had in hand but didn't ask him about it. They knew he was a private man and respected that fact. The elevators eventually began to clear as it went higher up the building until the only people left were him and an associate.

"I'll see you at the conference room?"

"Sure," Quatre answered. "Just give me five minutes."

"Five minutes it is."

When they reached the top floor, Quatre went straight for his office door and sneaked up behind his unsuspecting secretary. Making sure she was too busy to notice that he was behind her, he put his arms around her to present the roses and kiss her cheek at the same time.

"Happy birthday Marie," he said.

The older woman's first response was to yelp and then turn around to look at him.

"Quatre, you might have given me a heart attack," she reprimanded as she put a palm over her heart. "But thank you for the roses. You know I'm too old for this sort of thing." The fine lines that graced her homely face was proof of that.

Before she could say any more, Quatre retrieved two tickets from his suit pocket and then placed them on the table in front of her, satisfied that she was surprised.

"Take the day off," he said, standing straight up and pointing to the tickets. "I'm sure Harold won't mind taking you. Spending some time with your husband on your birthday should be pleasant. He works far too much. It should be a break for the two of you."

"I suppose," she answered hesitantly.

"The show starts tonight at around seven but you're going to need the next few hours to relax," Quatre suggested. Her response was to embrace him before taking the roses and looking at them.

"I don't know when you got the time to get these," she said. "They're lovely. Thank you."

"No problem," Quatre answered. "I have to be in the conference room in three minutes but I'm going to trust you to really take the day off. I don't want to see you here when I get back."

"Oh hush now. _You_ should be taking the day off."

"We'll see. Maybe a miracle will happen one day and I'll take one of those."

Quatre waved at her and then hurried to the conference room. Walking down a few corners, he tried to recall the list of things they had to discuss as well as certain issues that needed to be brought up. By the time he opened the large double doors, his mental list had organized itself and he was ready to take his seat at the head of the table.

"Shall we begin?" he started and then picked up his pen. He noticed that his stomach was protesting his lack of lunch but tried to ignore the protests until later. He was really looking forward to dinner with Trowa if only to find out what kind of person he was. The meeting had barely started, but he was already eager to leave.


	7. Part Seven

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Seven)**

Half the day later, Quatre was done with most of the tasks he set out to do. It was getting late and the last thing he needed to do wasn't too difficult. Taking a seat on the now empty chair of his secretary, he pushed the button on the answering machine to retrieve all his messages. At the same time, he put his fingers on the keyboard, ready to work through his schedule for the next week.

"Mr. Winner, may I interest you in some..."

Quatre hit the appropriate button to skip forward to the next message.

"Hello, this is Mr. Winthrop from the construction site. I was hoping we could discuss the final adjustments to the blueprints once you're ready. I will be available on Wednesday from 12 'til three. Please tell me what time will be convenient for you. Thank you."

Quatre looked through his schedule and typed in Mr. Winthrop / construction guy on the blank spot between two and three o'clock on Wednesday. When he was done, he pushed the button for the next message.

"Good afternoon. We represent the Wealthy Young magazine and are hoping you were interested in doing an interview with..."

Quatre skipped the message. He specifically remembered doing an interview with them a month ago and he did not see the need for them to take any more pictures of him. In fact, there was no need for him to take his shirt off when the interview was supposed to be about business. As far as he was concerned, it was a waste of his precious time. What was so important now that wasn't important then? Besides, he had barely any room left in his schedule.

"Uh, Mr. Winner... I mean, Master Win... uh, I mean, Quatre... Can I call you that on your work phone? Umm, you forgot to tell me where we were supposed to meet tonight. I'll get ready but I'm not sure where to go so just call me if you have time. Oh, yeah, this is Trowa and Duo says you already know my number. That's how I got yours."

This message, Quatre liked. He always had time in his schedule for Trowa. Writing down a note for his secretary to check in the morning, he put down his pen and decided to leave for the night. Once he was done arranging his schedule, he reprimanded himself for forgetting to supply Trowa with details of their get-together and then checked his watch.

"Oh crap!" he said. "It's ten minutes 'til nine. Marie should be able to take care of the rest of this tomorrow."

Picking up his jacket, he hurried past several surprised employees and stepped into the elevator.

"Leaving early for once?" an employee asked.

"Yeah."

"Something important you need to attend to?"

"Oh, very important," Quatre responded, stressing his words. He did not want Trowa angry at him again for not showing up on time. The man seemed to be harmless with his charming demeanor, but he also seemed like someone who should never be crossed. He was difficult, easy to impress but hard to completely win over.

"I guess we should expect to see you the same time tomorrow morning. Have a good night, Mr. Winner."

"You too," Quatre answered and then sprinted to his car. He already had the directions to Trowa's apartment in mind. All he needed to do was call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Trowa," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. I know I'm running late so I'll just pick you up at your place. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure."

"Good. Are you ready?"

"Uh huh."

"Great. I'll be there in around five minutes or so."

"Ok."

Ending the call, Quatre decided to concentrate on the road ahead of him. He did tend to be reckless when driving alone and he was sure that Trowa would not be impressed if he showed up in the man's doorstep bleeding from the head. Trowa would surely fuss over him. It would defeat the purpose of their dinner meeting.

Still persisting in his head was the memory of Trowa's apartment, the same inconspicuous building he had visited not too long ago in order to observe his then infatuation. Trowa had been quite the gorgeous man sleeping in nothing but his boxers. He simply could not resist jumping him. Quatre smirked as he sped towards his destination, reminding himself that he had a different purpose in mind this time around. It wouldn't do to scare Trowa off too quickly.

Within a few minutes, he was already in front of Trowa's apartment, knocking on the door and waiting for a response. It felt a little strange not trying to break into the place when he had done so the last time he visited. He smiled at the remembrance before noticing some movement through the peephole. He waved his hand in greeting.

When the door opened, he was greeted by the sight of the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. Trowa looked good in everything, especially in a black, formal suit that looked more expensive than his entire wardrobe.

"You look delicious," Quatre greeted as Trowa stepped back to let him in.

"So do you. Make yourself comfortable," he said. "I'll just be a minute. I just need to find my shoes."

"Take your time," Quatre called out and then looked around the place. It was homey if not a little dull with a good number of books on the shelves and another few of them littered on the coffee table. Trowa looked like he loved reading so much that it was almost intimidating. He was smart enough without the image of him reading a complicated book. However, there was something missing in the apartment that Quatre couldn't quite pinpoint just yet.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Trowa asked while looking through his closet. He was making a mess of his room, Quatre noted. "I don't have much, but try checking the fridge."

"I'm fine," Quatre answered. "We're going out for dinner anyway. What's the matter, still can't find those shoes?"

"Uh, no. I don't usually dress like this. I don't have very many clothes. Wait... Aha! Here they are."

When Trowa made his appearance again, Quatre was still standing in the middle of the room, eyeing the multitude of books scattered all over the living room. In spite of that, the appearance of Trowa still caught his attention. He stared at Trowa again, amazed at how elegant he looked in the only suit he probably owned. His hair was combed neatly although the same fall of brown hair was covering his face. Quatre thought it looked sexy. There was nothing like a hidden feature that made a man more mysterious.

"Any place in particular you'd like to go?" Quatre asked.

"Not really," Trowa answered, fidgeting with his tie. He looked a little uncomfortable with Quatre's scrutiny of him. "Weren't you going to pick the place?"

"You'll trust me with your next meal?" Quatre asked, choosing that moment to wink at him.

"You look like the type who knows how to pick them," Trowa answered, a bit scared of what Quatre had meant by it.

"Let's go then."

Trowa was amazed at the sight before his eyes when Quatre told him to get in the car and make himself comfortable. From the look in his face, it was as if Trowa had never seen a car so stunning it made him salivate. Quatre grinned, knowing just what Trowa had on his mind. He made it a point to purchase the best vehicles he could afford. It was the only true luxury he allowed himself.

"Hey, I won't wait for you to get in all night. If you want one of these, I'll get you one tomorrow."

Trowa seemed flabbergasted by the offer and immediately sat himself down.

"Uh, you don't have to," he said immediately, touching the shiny wooden interior. "Your car's pretty."

Quatre laughed, starting the engine and getting his car back on the road.

"Pretty? I'd like to hear you say that when Duo's around. He picked the 'pretty' car after all."

Strangely enough, Trowa stayed silent after that and Quatre was left to conclude that his companion was feeling awkward all of a sudden. He glanced to his right, hoping that he wasn't making Trowa too uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"You knew where I lived," Trowa said instead of responding to his question.

Quatre was surprised with the change of Trowa's mood but decided to answer. He had nothing to hide about his breaking in the apartment after all, not from Trowa at least.

"Duo can get any information on any employee working for Quinn labs. It wasn't too hard to find out where you lived."

"Was that a one time thing?" Trowa asked and this time, it was Quatre who felt awkward. He did not know if he had the heart to hurt such a sweet guy. Trowa looked like the keepers type. Duo said so himself.

"Remember that thing I said about needing to get rid of the sexual tension?" Quatre asked, trying to be delicate about the situation. He was not as insensitive as Duo put him out to be.

"Yes," Trowa answered warily.

"Well, I'm afraid that's just it."

"Oh, ok."

Quatre continued to concentrate on the road but could not help looking at Trowa every once in a while. He felt guilty for having to break it to him. At the same time, he was trapped because he couldn't exactly give Trowa a reason. There were secrets that were just too dangerous to reveal.

"Look," Quatre said. "I'm not the kind of guy you should want to go out with anyway. I'm pretty much hard to manage and... I don't really date."

When Trowa did not answer, Quatre bit his lip and tried to conjure up an excuse that could at least make him look less of an irresponsible bastard. At the same time, he did not want to reveal too much of himself and certainly not the reason why he did not date in the first place. Breaking it off with Trowa was becoming more difficult than he expected. There was sweat forming in his brows despite the cold air coming in from the car's roof. That would teach him never again to tread dangerous territories like Trowa.

A few more uncomfortable minutes of silence passed before they made it safely to the restaurant. Before Quatre had the chance to announce that they'd reached their destination, Trowa was already out the door. Even the valet looked frightened when Trowa's indifferent expression came to view. He never really expressed how he felt about anything but the blank, commanding expression on him was more than enough to cause fear in anyone unfortunate enough to encounter him in such a mood.

Quatre walked quickly, unable to catch up with his companion. After giving the valet his keys, he was surprised to find that Trowa had already asked the receptionist for their seat without waiting for him. He supposed he was lucky that Trowa hadn't left him yet.

He really could not think of anything to say as he sat across from Trowa. Picking up a menu and covering his face with it was the best he could do under the circumstances. It was absurd! The last time he felt this out of control was when he was four years old. Duo would not stop teasing him if he ever found out that the shy chemist held that much control over him. Nobody, and he meant nobody, was ever able to intimidate Quatre Winner. He might have just met his match.

"Any drinks, sirs?" the waiter asked. Quatre noticed the man's arrival but couldn't speak.

"Any sort of wine would be good for starters," Trowa responded for the both of them.

"Very well, sir. Do you leave it to my discretion?"

"Sure."

The silence stretched on longer than Quatre could bear. It was like being scolded by his father all over again. The minutes passed, yet he couldn't put down the menu.

The waiter came just a few minutes later with a chilled bottle of a very expensive looking wine ready. After popping the bottle open, he poured the wine into Trowa's elegant glass and then proceeded to fill his as well. Quatre held up a hand to stop him.

"Very well," their server said and then turned to Trowa. "Is it to your liking, sir?" he asked as Trowa downed the whole glass.

"Very," Trowa answered. "Fill me up again."

The server did as he was told and Trowa predictably consumed the alcohol with one gulp. Quatre was in shock. Was Trowa planning to get drunk on a very expensive bottle of wine? It was probably not a good idea to inform Trowa of just how much it cost when he was more sensible. He might offer to pay for it.

He watched with fascination as Trowa downed his third glass. By that time, he was getting really worried and signaled for the waiter to leave them. Trowa was not going to get any more if he could help it.

"Are you alright?" Quatre asked. "You probably shouldn't drink anymore or else you're going to get drunk."

"You're wrong," Trowa answered suddenly and rather loudly. Quatre was taken aback. "I get to choose what I want," Trowa continued.

Quatre began to sweat anew. There was no way of stopping Trowa without catching the attention of the patrons of the restaurant. Besides, Trowa did not look like he could be stopped.

"And I want you. There's no way you could come up with a better excuse to drive me away. Oh, I'm sure I can manage you pretty well and I'll even teach you how to date. You'll see! I'll even turn you into a righteous citizen."

Quatre blinked. The alcohol must have really worked well for Trowa's self-confidence. He had never been as assertive as he was then and he had certainly said more now than he ever said before.

"So you're not mad about what I said earlier?" Quatre asked just to make sure.

"It depends," Trowa answered. "Will you let me kiss you in front of the cameras?"

Leaning back on his chair, Quatre unconsciously slid his chair a little further from Trowa's. He looked out the window to confirm his suspicions and spotted a grinning idiot with a camera just a few feet away from them. It was proving to be a difficult night, but he had to make a decision. It was either he left with Trowa still angry at him for what he said or face the punishment of having to deal with the tabloid reporters for the next few weeks. It was tough, but he had no other alternative.

"Are you sure you won't regret this when you're sober?" Quatre asked him. After all, the press would be after Trowa as well.

"Why would I?"

Quatre shrugged. If that was what Trowa wanted then that was what he was going to get.

"Kiss away," Quatre said, surprised that he'd been so bold. He was sure that he was going to hit himself hard when he got home that night.

The next thing he felt was a pair of soft lips caressing his, the slightly tangy taste of the wine mixing in with the kiss. It was divine and it was worth the next few weeks of hell he was going to go through with the tabloids.


	8. Part Eight

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Eight)**

Quatre groaned. When Duo said that he needed to talk to him, he was serious. His friend had wanted to meet with him right away and had even convinced Marie to cancel his appointments for the next two hours. He could see it now, a sea of paperwork worth two hours just because someone needed to talk to him. Duo was going to pay for it.

Despite his worry, he sat peacefully inside a dainty Thai restaurant, chewing on some Mi Krop and sipping on his Thai tea (1). Duo was late and to him, lost time meant twice the amount of work. If Duo didn't show up within the next five minutes, he was leaving.

"What the hell is this?"

Ah, so he was coming after all. Quatre stirred his tea and then sipped on the sweet concoction some more. He could almost tell what all the fuss was about. Even if Duo was halfway across the restaurant, it was clear enough what he had in hand - a newspaper, or more specifically, a tabloid.

"Sit down," Quatre said when he came closer. "And don't make a scene."

"That's the reason why I brought you here. The press doesn't know this place so I have the right to bitch all I want."

"What's your drama? This isn't your problem," Quatre said indifferently. There were still a lot of things to do back in his office and a little love scandal was far from his concerns.

"I'm making it my problem," Duo said before pulling out a seat. "Jeez, you have never been this careless before."

Duo was scratching his head in frustration and Quatre simply looked at him, like an aloof child to his angry father. He knew from experience that it was best to let Duo fume until he was satisfied. Otherwise, he would just end up exploding later.

"Why don't you go ahead and explain this to me so I could at least talk to Trowa in a consistent, kind, and non-threatening manner."

"It isn't his fault," Quatre defended although he did not see the need to. "He was just a bit tipsy."

"You got him drunk?" Duo practically screamed. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't exactly pick up random pretty boys to force into a lurid kisses after I get them drunk," Quatre said, exasperated that Duo still thought that he was irresponsible. Really, he was old enough to handle himself. "He got tipsy, not drunk and I don't think his state of mind should be blamed on me."

He was slightly annoyed although he still chose to act aloof and that was only because he did not want to allow something so petty to affect him. He knew how frustrating he was to talk to. Duo had said so himself. He was aware of how unconcerned he was, especially when it came to himself.

"What are you going to do about the press?" Duo asked. He didn't seem like was letting Quatre's attitude get to him, but he looked concerned all the same. Still, his best defense was to stay collected.

"I'll handle it," Quatre said off-handedly, picking up some of the fried noodles with his fingers.

"How, may I ask, are you going to do that?"

"I'll let the news circulate for a few weeks until it dies down."

Quatre continued to pick at the appetizer with his fingers, chewing on the sweet, crunchy pieces as Duo continued to lecture him.

"I told you this would happen," Duo started again, digging in on the appetizer as well although Quatre was sure that he wasn't aware of it. He didn't respond to Duo's bait so his friend continued with his sermon.

"You said you were going to stop doing this, remember? You weren't supposed to do this, especially with guys like Trowa. Guys like him are looking for love. They want commitment. They don't want a one night fucking session that somehow seems like it didn't even happen."

"I'm not playing with him," Quatre finally answered, sitting back on his chair. It was a harsh blow to his conscience and it bothered him that Duo had said it so bluntly.

"I know you don't do that Quat, but there's something you have to understand. Putting people through your life problems destroys them for life. I mean, for God's sake, do you even remember Wufei? You scared the guy shitless. Now he refuses to even live on the same continent you're in."

Quatre sighed before signaling their waiter for another glass of Thai tea. At least the sweet taste it had on his mouth was soothing him.

"You don't have to remind me of all my flaws," Quatre said. All of a sudden, his tie was suffocating him. Irritated, he loosened it a bit before regarding his friend. "I know what I did and I'm not doing it again. I broke it off with Trowa last night. I just didn't have any idea he was very assertive when he was slightly drunk."

Faced with an outright dissection of his morals, Quatre tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. He was just about ready to flee if Duo decided to continue with his criticism of his behavior. He knew that it was a coward's way out and more importantly, he knew that Duo was right, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

"I'm warning you Duo," he said. "You better change the subject before this topic pisses me off." Let it not be said that he did not have the ability to control a conversation.

Duo blinked at him, noticing for the first time that he looked livid.

"What did he have to get drunk on anyway?" Duo asked as if Quatre's previous outburst never happened. Quatre felt relieved. At least Duo knew him well enough to stop.

"Oh, Dom. Romanée Conti (2)," Quatre answered. "I must say that our waiter was very knowledgeable."

Duo grabbed the glass of tea their waiter had brought and all but slammed it on the table. Quatre thanked the half-scared man before turning his attention to the flabbergasted expression on Duo's face.

"Holy shit!" his friend said. "Does he even know how much one of those bottles cost?"

"I suggest you never speak of this with him," Quatre answered. "He was drinking it like beer. I doubt he'll get anything less of a heart attack if he ever found out."

By that time, Duo's temper had gone down. He was even starting to laugh at Trowa's foolishness. It did well to abate Quatre's anxiety.

"So why'd you let him kiss you anyway?" Duo asked, sticking a straw into Quatre's tea without permission. He mixed the liquid and then began sipping on it.

"He was too damn adorable claiming me as his next conquest. I didn't have the heart to turn him down again after what I said earlier."

"He's not giving you up that quickly, is he?"

"Nope. Not a chance."

Quatre sipped on his tea as well. From afar it seemed like the two of them were lovers sharing a drink.

"And you'll let him do whatever the hell he wants," Duo said. It was more a statement than a question. After all, he knew Quatre well enough to predict what he would do. "What is it about him that you'd let yourself slip like this anyway?"

"I don't know. I guess I feel responsible. I did start it after all."

"Don't blame yourself too hard, Quat. He did reciprocate."

Quatre checked his watch and immediately stood up. His break was supposed to have been two hours, but with mounds of paperwork waiting for him, thirty minutes was more than enough.

"I have to go," he said, rearranging his tie and combing his fingers through his hair so that he looked presentable.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Duo said while waving him off.

Not waiting for Duo to say any more, Quatre dashed out the door, intending to get back to his office in time. The last thing he heard was Duo's extremely loud voice as he ordered his ruby chicken meal.

The way back to the office was not as peaceful as he expected. Being so obviously stalked by people who wanted to get a scoop was not a very pleasant experience. Quatre had no choice but to act like he didn't see them. It wasn't such a great idea to provoke them after all. Once he glanced at one, he was sure the rest would follow. They were like rabid dogs waiting for signs of vulnerability.

He eventually got back to his office safely and not long after was drowning himself once again in paperwork. Whatever thoughts were going through his head earlier were replaced with boring calculations and intensive evaluation. Sometimes he wished that his work was not as tedious all the time.

"Quatre, you have a call on line 5," Marie's voice called in from his speaker phone before he'd managed to sign a contract he just spent twenty minutes reading. He really didn't want to have to read it over. The darn thing was more complicated than a lawsuit.

"Could I possibly decline to answer?" Quatre said, pushing a button while continuing to read through the last few lines.

"It's from a Mr. Barton," she responded. "Should I tell him you're too busy to take the call?"

Quatre put the contract down swiftly and then gave himself a few seconds to massage his forehead.

"It's ok. Put him through," he said.

He picked up the receiver and leaned back on his chair.

"Trowa?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I was... just calling to apologize for what I did last night."

Quatre smiled. Trowa sounded very apologetic and very sweet unlike the voice of authority he had the night before.

"There's no need for an apology," he answered. "I did let you kiss me after all."

There was a pause on the other line. Quatre waited for Trowa to take it all in.

"Thanks," Trowa said after what seemed like an eternity. "My, uh, sister pointed out on the phone this morning that I was on the front page of the tabloids."

"I take it she's very keen?"

"She's more than keen. She even noticed the bottle of wine in the picture. I'm really sorry for ordering such an expensive bottle."

"Don't worry about it. You didn't order it. The waiter chose it for you."

"In any case, I'd like to offer to pay for dinner. I did cause quite the embarrassment last night. I guess it's only right that I do."

Quatre chose not to tell him just how much dinner cost. He wouldn't be able to afford such an extravagant meal even if he wanted to. Trowa was sweet though. He had his way of showing just how adorably polite he was.

"We went to dinner as my apology, remember? I was supposed to pay for the meal. What do you say we call it a truce?"

There was another pause. Quatre knew his excuse was plausible enough. Now, if only Trowa bought it.

"I guess it makes sense," Trowa answered. "Uh, I have a question to ask you though."

"Ask on," Quatre said good-naturedly although he knew he still had a lot of work ahead of him. His patience, when it came to Trowa, was inexorably high.

"How are you supposed to avoid them, the news people I mean? I look at them once and they all start surrounding me. I'm afraid to even go out of the building."

Quatre laughed, imagining poor Trowa trying to avoid the bloodsuckers. He was a neophyte now but at the end of the week, he was sure Trowa would become a full-fledged expert at fleeing.

"Ignore them," Quatre said. "Act like you don't see them. That should keep them where they are. These people love attention. If you glance at them once, they won't leave you alone."

"That simple?"

"Trust me."

"Uh, ok. Thanks again Quatre. I, umm, really enjoyed kissing you last night."

The line was immediately cut off. Quatre smiled. Trowa sounded like a shy first-grader. It was so damn adorable he couldn't help but think about it.

"Quatre, you have a call on line 2."

He almost refused to answer but then considered taking it. Trowa might have decided to call back again.

"I'll take it," he answered quickly.

"Trowa?"

"Who's Trowa, your new plaything?"

Quatre clamped a hand over his mouth in horror. He hated it when one of his sisters called unexpectedly. They always tended to expect the worst of him.

"Stella?"

"Yes Quatre. It's me. I'm at Jasmin's place right now. She looks a little too pale and since I can't contact Iria, I'm expecting you to be here tonight. No excuses, understood?"

"Yes, Stella. I'll be there tonight."

"Tonight is too vague a word Quatre. You better give me a definite time."

"Nine o'clock," Quatre answered.

The other end of the line was silent for a while before his sister spoke up again.

"Listen, I don't care what kind of childish nonsense you have going on with that toy of yours in the newspaper, but when I say we need you here soon, I mean it."

"I'm sorry," Quatre answered, feeling his mouth go dry. "I can't be there as early as I want. The best I could do is seven."

"Good. I expect you here at six."

When the line went dead, Quatre put the phone down and then went back to work. When his sister said that she wanted him there on the dot, she was serious. The last thing he wanted to do was to get any of his sisters angry at him for being late.

oOo

(1) It's a sweet, crispy, fried noodle treat, a Thai specialty. Thai tea is made of tea and half and half creamer. Really yummy.

(2) This wine goes for approximately $1540. The ingredients sound good too. For a list: 


	9. Part Nine

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Nine)**

It was raining outside, forcing Trowa to stay within the building and settle for his mediocre peanut butter sandwich. Spring was always a good season except for the fact that it rained. He really didn't mind the occasional showers, just the hassle of having to bring an umbrella and getting himself wet just to buy lunch across the street. It was better to stay indoors for the time being, especially since the press still did not relent in hounding him. He had to admit, they were a very scary breed.

Trowa rinsed his mouth in the bathroom sink, thinking about how it wouldn't do to have a sticky mouth while he worked. It was likely that he'd feel the urge to stick his hand in his mouth to get rid of the peanut butter. As much as it was compelling, it was still wholly unsanitary.

"Peanut butter sandwich again?"

Trowa looked up and noticed Duo rinse his hands on the sink next to him.

"Uh huh," he answered, choosing to be responsive but not trying to start a conversation. When he was done gurgling, he washed his hands and then left the restroom. Duo did not follow him, but he didn't mind. At least the other guy got the him. They were both busy the past week and lunchtime chats were simply not an option.

Pushing a button to open the massive doors to his lab, Trowa stepped in expecting to find only the lab mice waiting for him. Instead, he found himself with an unexpected guest for the afternoon.

"Trowa, I have a question for you," Quatre addressed him immediately without greeting him first. He was somber and serious, the usual teasing in his voice gone for the time being. He was sitting on a rope that was suspended from the ceiling. His hands were holding on to the cable, probably to keep him from flipping over.

"Sure, what is it?" Trowa asked, noting that Quatre's sudden appearances started to become more common. However, it didn't mean that he was less than elated whenever Quatre dropped by at his workplace. Although stealing was still on his list of evil deeds, sexy thieves were more than welcome.

"Give me a second," Quatre said. He lifted up his hips while holding on to the rope, detaching the hook in his midsection that connected him to it.

"Uh..."

There were still some things, on the other hand, that Trowa still was not used to. Most of it involved the unmistakably enticing way Quatre moved. He looked seductive even when he was innocently (or so he hoped) trying to unhook himself.

"Wipe your chin, Trowa," Quatre said, finally succeeding in detaching the device. He pushed his hair back and then sent Trowa a playful wink. "I'm glad to know I still have that effect on you," he added.

"What was the question?" Trowa asked, choosing to divert his attention to other things. There was just something so pathetic about pining for the one you couldn't have.

"Hmm, I suppose it's more like a report. The last batch I picked up from you had some serious side-effects."

"Like what?"

"Let me see... nausea, vomiting, dry mouth, skin irritation, red eyes oh and before I forget... delirium."

"My rats look fine," Trowa answered, always defensive of his work. He was certain that Quatre could not possibly know something he didn't. Besides, he was also a burglar and those types were never to be trusted.

Quatre did not take offense to his response and instead walked up to a glass cage, picking up one of the mice. Holding up the furry, white creature to Trowa, he placed his hand over the quivering mouse.

"Oh, I'm sure they haven't told you what's bothering them, but I think this was the one that took the shot. Call it a hunch."

Alarmed that he didn't discover the problem sooner, Trowa went up to Quatre to retrieve the sick creature. Its eyes did look red and it didn't seem to refuse handling despite its nature to do so. He looked inside the glass to check if the others were fine.

"Don't worry. It's not contagious. I just wanted you to know about the side effects."

Trowa looked at him with eyes narrowed. He began to question himself whether Quatre could be trusted with such risky substances that even he hadn't fully studied yet. It was possible he'd been using it on someone, maybe not himself but someone who told him about the side-effects. Was Quatre selling them? The chemicals he was working on were very dangerous when not fully tested.

"Think what you like," Quatre said, noticing the look of distrust coming from him. He pushed back his stubborn locks and settled himself on the darker corner of the room. "I just need to find out if you could decrease the adverse side-effects."

"Why?"

The lab was filled with silence. It wasn't too often that Trowa questioned him and this time, he knew he had the right to ask first. After all, they were dealing with something that may have done harm to a human being and Trowa knew he wouldn't be able to sleep that night if he were responsible for someone's suffering.

"I suppose you wouldn't settle for the only answer I could give you."

"And what is that answer supposed to be?" Trowa asked, trying hard to see Quatre who was still hidden in the dark.

He chose to come closer but was interrupted by the sound of the double doors sliding open. Trowa was surprised to see a new face come in with a clipboard in hand. He supposed Quatre was hidden well enough.

"Dr. Barton, I have the results of the..."

Trowa was surprised because right after the door closed, the man was unconscious on the floor. Quatre had knocked him out cold. It was unbelievable. The man was huge, more than twice his size. Trowa's eyes weren't even fast enough to see it happen.

"You didn't have to do that," he reprimanded the blonde.

"He was interrupting," Quatre answered, standing up from his crouched position.

Trowa did not look too happy and yet Quatre didn't seem to notice. He took the clipboard from the man's now incapacitated hands and then handed it to him. Trowa read through the contents and almost dropped it. There, on the data sheet, was every single one of the symptoms Quatre pointed out in the same order, not one symptom deviating from the list. It was even signed by Dr. Quinn himself. Therefore, it was authentic.

"How did you know?" Trowa asked, still looking through the contents. "Why would you come here just to relay second hand information?"

"Who said it was second hand?"

Trowa looked up, hoping to see a look of something, anything that would indicate Quatre's interest in the matter. In addition, he wanted a confirmation that Quatre had indeed tried the substance on a human being. It was unethical and for him, completely unacceptable.

"You came here because..."

Quatre sighed and then laughed. It was a strange reaction to his inquiry. Quatre was putting a hand on his forehead while shaking his head. Trowa thought that the other man wasn't taking the matter seriously despite his attempts to remain serious.

"Look," Quatre said. "I could pretty much tell what's on your mind. You may have that stone face, but I could read right through you. It's alright if you don't trust me. All I need is an assurance that you'll figure out the problem."

"Who'd you try it on?"

All of a sudden Quatre turned around, refusing to face him.

"I don't play with people, Trowa," he said seriously, his voice an octave lower. "And since I can't get you to do this for me, we're going to have to do a trade..."

Trowa almost had a heart-attack when the door opened once again. The person who'd just entered was certainly not someone he was expecting. Duo rarely visited him at the labs.

"Tro, I was... oh..."

Duo noticed the heavy lump on the floor and began pushing on it. Quatre was one inch away from rendering him unconscious as well. Trowa sat down on his chair. This was surely going to get his blood pressure up.

"What are you doing here Duo? I almost got you."

"Eh?" Duo answered, looking up and finally noticing Quatre. "What am I doing here? The better question is what are you doing here? I work here."

"I have no time for this," Quatre said. It was the first time Trowa had seen him irritated. In the weeks that he'd known Quatre, not once did he see him anything less than playful. It was rather scary.

"Sheesh, fine... get on with whatever you two were talking about."

"Trowa," Quatre said, facing him again. Duo was being non-existent for the time being. "Do this for me and you could pick your pleasure."

Duo's brow went up, winking at him from behind Quatre. Trowa could tell that the other had taken it the wrong way and decided to look away from him. Trying to ignore Duo was the best plan of action. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to keep his head clear. A gloriously wet Quatre wasn't helping matters either. He had to remember what the discussion was about it the first place.

"Well," Quatre said, crossing his arms and then tapping his foot. "What's it going to be? You want me in jail? You want me in a drug rehabilitation clinic? You name it."

Trowa had to think things through. Now that it was presented before him, he no longer wanted it. All the times he thought of reforming Quatre was replaced with curiosity. He didn't want their trysts to end so abruptly. He wanted to find out more and that was how he came up with a more acceptable alternative.

"I'll work on it," Trowa started. "If you let me check whatever substance it was you were using on yourself."

Quatre closed his eyes. It was obvious that it was going to be a tough decision.

"You have to be crazy to ask for something like that," Duo interrupted all of a sudden. It became apparent he was in a defensive mode. They were probably trying to hide something really important and Trowa wanted to know what it was. Was there some big, ugly secret contained in those bottles?

"Duo will give you access to it. Can I trust that you will have the side-effects figured out soon?"

Trowa nodded. Somehow, he felt a little childish for asking something seemingly valuable in exchange for an hour's worth of observation and a few modifications to his formula. Still, he was compelled to find the answers.

"You must be nuts. I'm not handing it over to him," Duo protested.

As if expecting the reaction, Quatre answered Duo flatly.

"I have to go, Duo," he said. "I have no time to discuss this any further. Just give it to him."

Duo nodded although he did not look too happy about it. By the time Trowa had understood the ramifications of the exchange; Quatre was already ducking and leaving through the piping system. Not for the first time, Trowa wondered how he managed to fit himself in the tiny space.

"Who are you doing this for?" Trowa asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. He only wondered just what secret lay behind a tiny bottle and who was the lucky person Quatre was sacrificing his secret for.

Was it possible that he gave it to someone who was really sick? It was almost impossible. The disease was rare and was only spread in isolated regions. However, Quatre did manage to describe it clearly and so did Dr. Quinn. There was certainly something going on in the labs that he did not know about.

"It's your lucky day," Duo said, interrupting his musings. "You're going to find out just what makes Quatre Winner run."

Trowa turned to him just in time to see the frustrated look on Duo's face.

"I can't believe you got it that easy; you of all people."

"I don't plan to do anything improper with the information. I just want to know what's going on," Trowa said. He had to defend himself somehow. The animosity in the room was too thick not to notice. He did have very good intentions. If Duo thought that he was going to release damaging information to the media then he was wrong.

"That's the problem, Tro," Duo continued again. "You're just too holy to be cut out for this. Besides, you've got that sparkle in your eyes every time you see him. There must be some selfish desire burning in you. You just don't know about it. That same sparkle is going to cause trouble. I can already see it coming."

Keeping silent was the only reasonable thing to do. Whatever Duo meant may have had some truth in it. After all, Duo had known Quatre longer and they'd probably been more than thieving buddies. Trowa decided that Quatre trusted Duo with a lot of things.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go and get it," Duo called to him. He did not even notice that the door was already open and that Duo was stepping over the still unconscious body.

"Uh, ok."

Trowa followed him through the hallways until they made it to the storage facilities. Duo sat on his chair and proceeded to type something in his computer so quickly Trowa could not decipher what it was. When Duo was done typing, compartment number C74 came up. Perhaps they had changed the storage. Trowa accepted the key card from Duo and climbed up a couple of stairs until he reached his intended destination. He opened the compartment slowly and fought to see through the cold fog that was almost hiding what was within. Pushing the fog away, he picked up the first bottle he could get his hands on and inspected it. It had the label Q30ZO on it.


	10. Part Ten

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Ten)**

It had been a week and four days. Trowa stretched his arms just as a swarm of people exited what seemed to be one of the larger rooms in the building. Left and right, his path was blocked. There was no choice but to squeeze into any open space available. It was the first time he visited the university and had he known that there was a class ending at that time, he would have opted to postpone his trip to the restroom another five minutes after the crowd had dissipated.

"What the...?"

Before he could reach the door, he was shoved all the way to the other end of the hallway without as much as a peep from him as an 'excuse me' every now and then. He should have shoved through more aggressively when he had the chance. Now he didn't know where he was or where he came from. It was bad enough that he spent almost an hour trying to find the office he was supposed to visit in the first place.

He looked at the room numbers and then back down at his barely discernible map that looked much too complicated for just a building. He had to remind himself why he was there instead of spending a lazy day somewhere else.

"Old guy wanted to discuss something," he muttered to himself. It was the price he had to pay for being such a loud mouth during the last convention. Now, every odd scientist thought that he was smarter than everyone else. Just what did he know that they didn't already know in their years of studying anyway?

He was lucky enough to get the day off to discuss his ongoing work with the old man he'd met a few weeks back, but it was beginning to look like it wasn't worth the trouble now that he was in the middle of nowhere. By the time he found his way back, his day off would have probably been already wasted wandering around the building.

He had better things to do, one of which was to double-check his findings on the bottle labeled Q30ZO.

A question then popped into his mind. Where was Quatre anyway? It had been a week and four days and there was still no sign of him. Trowa had already isolated the problems and figured out the solution to the medication's problems two days ago and Quatre still wasn't coming. He would have wanted to contact him, but it would have sounded rather suspicious if he left a message with his secretary indicating that the stolen substances had now been reconfigured for him. He would have sounded like a criminal, or at least an accessory to a crime.

"...and as an example, let's consider a few of the most prominent companies that have gone down just recently."

Trowa had to make a 360 degree turn at the sound of the voice. Was that Quatre or was he hearing things? If it was Quatre, what was he doing there?

He decided to check, following the source of the voice all the way into a large, double-door room. He stepped in quietly to avoid disrupting the lecture and positioned himself toward the back of the room. The place was crowded. He wouldn't have been able to find a seat even if he wanted to. Even the steps going down the lecture hall was filled with people who'd chosen to make themselves comfortable there. It was almost unbelievable just how much people were able to fit in the already large room. Just who was giving the lecture anyway?

Once Trowa had squeezed and positioned himself in comfortably, he looked up to find his question answered. There all the way up front was Quatre, walking back and forth as he used a laser pointer to indicate what he was referring to on the large projection. Trowa had to stop himself from yelling a question in shock.

Quatre was wearing a deep blue shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves folded up. Attached to the back of his black pants was the microphone device whose wire connected from the small of his back to the front of his shirt.

"...is always one of the biggest issues and why not? Without these codes of behavior, the foundation of good business could not be properly set."

Trowa leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Quatre certainly had a way of dealing with people, enough to hold the crowd's interest in the topic. It wasn't just that either. He looked smart, assertive, confident, and most importantly...

"God damn sexy."

Trowa blinked and the looked to his side to find the woman who had sighed out the comment. It was funny that they had exactly the same thing in mind.

"Don't you think so?" she asked him, not caring whether the subject concerned him or not.

Trowa nodded.

"Say, come to think of it, you're not so bad yourself, handsome."

"Uh, thanks?" Trowa answered, unsure of how to handle the compliment.

"Don't mention it."

The woman smiled at him and then redirected her attention back to the lecture. Trowa did so as well.

"Now, let's leave these last few minutes for questions..."

Trowa continued to watch, mesmerized again as Quatre answered question after hard question with very little effort. It was strange to see him in that context after getting used to seeing him hanging from ceilings.

"Excuse me," he asked the woman beside him. "What was the lecture about again?"

"You haven't been paying attention, have you?" she asked, which caused him to try and think up an excuse. "Just kidding. You don't have to be so tense. He was discussing business ethics."

Business ethics? Ethics, being discussed by a thief? Trowa had a very good question in mind.

Almost as if by reflex, he raised his hand up to ask his question. It was a while before Quatre noticed him all the way in the back but when he did, his eyes sparkled with recognition. He grinned and Trowa's response was to gulp. Maybe it was a bad idea.

"Yes, the gentleman all the way at the back. What's your question?"

All heads in the room turned to him, which caused him to feel even more nervous than he was a minute ago.

"Given the difference between ethics and morals would you say that an immoral act such as stealing could be rationalized by a mere play in the definition of ethics?"

He hoped he said that right. Perhaps it was too difficult a question because after he finished his question, all heads turned to Quatre for the answer.

Quatre put his thumb and index finger below his chin and then walked a couple of steps before stopping. He then tapped his forehead twice with his finger before facing the crowd and then smiling. Trowa felt like he was up to something.

"Before I answer the question," Quatre started. "I'd like everyone in the room to pay attention to the gentleman who asked the question."

Trowa pulled nervously on his collar. What was going on?

"That man, if you don't already know is one of the great chemists of our time," Quatre continued. "Trowa Barton had just recently solved the puzzle to one of the most deadliest of diseases although he's modest enough not to admit it. I think he deserves an applause, wouldn't you agree?"

Just as Quatre winked at him, the crowd turned their attention toward him and then applauded him. There were even a few howls here and there and a few phone numbers scribbled at the back of notebooks sent his way. He was embarrassed beyond belief.

"Now that we've given our special guest his well deserved praise," Quatre said, mercifully saving him from the all the attention he was receiving. "It is my duty to answer the question. You see, Dr. Barton, there's a small but important difference between ethics and morals. Ethics, like I said earlier is a code of morality and morality is the difference between right and wrong. What I've been discussing so far are codes of behavior set by society. Let's not forget the reasons behind these. There will always be cases where your behaviors meet the demands of society and yet devour your sense of good judgment. In the end, it's not these codes prescribed by the few elite that matters but those which drive you that matters the most."

Trowa took the time to digest what he said. Oh, he was good. He didn't expect Quatre to get out of it that easily.

"And... I think my time is up. Thank you very much for this opportunity."

The people applauded him as the crowd dispersed into the chaotic mess Trowa was getting used to. A few people were starting to gather around Quatre to ask questions so he chose to take a seat toward the front and wait there. It was a few minutes before every other person had left the room and just the two of them were left.

"I didn't know you taught," was Trowa's first words as Quatre arranged his things and looked at him.

"I don't. I just did this as a favor for a client. He thought it best that they heard it from someone in the real world who isn't far from their age."

"I can't believe you did that," Trowa continued again, following Quatre with his eyes as the other disconnected his laptop from the projection device and placed it inside his bag.

"What, you mean call attention to you in an audience of 400 people?" Quatre asked, winking at him as he rolled his sleeves down and buttoned them.

"What else?"

"Let's just call it payback for trying to embarrass me in front of said crowd."

"You didn't experience any form of embarrassment. I did. Besides, you were able to answer my question."

"Too bad. You lost this round."

"It's too obvious you enjoyed that little stunt," Trowa said and then looked away. So, he did lose. He won't do so easily the next time.

"Stop sulking you big baby," Quatre said. "Are you going to keep sitting there or do you want to leave already."

Trowa stood up and followed him. Quatre apparently knew where to go because he opened a door and just like magic, they were outside of the building. Trowa followed him out and noticed that Quatre was walking toward a vehicle, possibly his.

"How many cars do you have?" he asked as Quatre lifted the strap of the laptop bag secured across his chest and placed it inside the trunk of the car.

"Two."

"Just two?"

"Yup. Just two. Do me a favor and knot this tie, will you?"

He took the tie but first looked at it and then at Quatre. Quatre seemed to notice his inquiry as he was buttoning up his shirt.

"What, do I have something on my face?"

"Winnie the Pooh?" Trowa asked, starting to knot the tie.

"It's from my niece. She spends her allowance buying me ties. I'd be a jerk not to wear them."

"Oh," Trowa responded, pulling the front end of the tie down and lifting it out of his neck to hand to Quatre. "It's... charming."

"Thanks," Quatre said and then secured the tie around his neck. He entered his vehicle and then looked up at Trowa. "You going back to work?" he asked.

"I got the rest of the day off," he answered.

"Good, then you're joining me for lunch. Hop in," Quatre said immediately and then put on his sunglasses.

"Uh..."

"What do you think about Thai food? I know a great place. Are you going to get in or will I have to haul your ass in here?"

"Yes, yes," Trowa answered, opening the door and making himself comfortable inside. "Why are you always in a hurry?"

"Hectic schedule," Quatre answered and then stepped on the gas. Not long after, they were already on the road. Trowa made it a point to watch him closely. Maybe, just maybe he could find the answers to all his questions.

"Trowa, stop staring at me. If you want to say something, just say it. I won't bite your head off."

"I figured it out... the side-effects, I mean."

Quatre smiled, looking both relieved and satisfied. That caused Trowa to watch him more closely than he already was.

"You are one smart guy," Quatre said. "You're so smart you're saving me a lot of grief. Have I told you how much I love you?"

Trowa looked at him, interested at the implications he knew were only in his mind. There was no harm in playing with him a little.

"No," he answered. "And I'd appreciate it if you told me how much."

Quatre laughed in response to his straightforward reply. It wasn't everyday that he had the guts to say such things. He was obviously starting to get comfortable around Quatre.

"Cute, very cute Trowa. Coming from somebody else, that would've been so lame. I have to wonder sometimes why an honest sweetheart like you would be interested in a crook like me."

Trowa had to ask himself the same question. Just why was he so infatuated with him anyway? Come to think of it, he was becoming an accessory to a thief and he could have been providing some thugs illegal drugs for all he knew. There was just something there, something important to find out.

He looked at Quatre, eyes on the road but still with the amused smile as he drove on. There was one thing that tugged at the back of his mind. Who was Quatre exactly and what was the truth behind it all?


	11. Part Eleven

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Eleven)**

"Was it to your liking?"

Trowa nearly burped as he placed a napkin modestly against his mouth. The meal Quatre had treated him out to was extraordinary. Although the dainty little restaurant was less extravagant than the previous place he'd been to with Quatre, the food was excellent. Some of the spicy-sweet taste of his chosen meal still lingered on his tongue. He had to admit, Quatre had really good taste when it came to food. Too bad he wasn't eating as much as Trowa was.

"Very good," Trowa said before sipping on his iced tea or Thai iced tea as Quatre called it. It had just the right amount of sweetness to make him feel strangely satiated. Really, this was the first time he'd tasted anything different, exotic even.

"I don't think those peanut butter sandwiches of yours are too healthy for you."

"Healthy?" Trowa responded, not even once considering the nutritional value of anything that he put into his mouth. All he cared for was the taste and the ease of cooking. He considered himself a typical bachelor who loved to shove food into his mouth without giving it a second thought.

"Ah, forgive me for being nosy and nagging. That's Duo's job."

Trowa frowned, remembering just what he wanted to discuss. Whenever Duo came up, images of conspiring criminals came to mind. He couldn't help but always associate Duo with Quatre's partner in crime.

"They're not good for you," Trowa chose to say, not really specifying what he was referring to. The fact that he was talking about the substance Q30ZO was fairly obvious. He supposed the place was secure enough. Quatre had assured him that there would be no interfering media persons. However, what he was most worried about was the subject matter they were discussing. Quite frankly, he thought it was illegal.

"They're not good for me based on your assessment, but they're good enough for my purposes," Quatre said, absently picking up his napkin to wipe at the stain he'd made on his shirt. He frowned when he noted that it wasn't going to come off no matter what rubbing he did.

"It keeps you at a much too elevated state," Trowa said. He decided that it was fine to discuss it where they were if Quatre was not protesting. "If you stop it now, the side-effects will be less harmful."

"Tell me something I don't already know, Trowa," Quatre said, continuing to rub at his shirt in annoyance despite knowing that he couldn't do anything about the stain. Trowa found it strange the way Quatre always wanted to keep clean. He was sort of a neat freak now that he thought about it.

"You know, but you keep using it." Trowa frowned because Quatre was aware of the danger to himself and still didn't stop. He was also dismayed that his companion's attention was directed at the shirt and not on him. "You're going to be completely paralyzed when the time comes."

Quatre stiffened as if fearing what he'd heard. Trowa could not help but frown deeper. He thought Quatre had already known the side-effects. If he was scared, then why was he still going through with it?

"Sometimes," Quatre said, finally letting go of his shirt and looking back up at Trowa. "Sacrifices have to be made. Having me up and running now while I'm still needed is important. Whatever happens later is not my primary concern."

Trowa did not notice himself pout. He did, however, feel his lower lip jut out as his arms crossed and positioned themselves against his chest.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said. He may have been suspicious of what Quatre meant, but he was more worried than anything else.

"Trowa," Quatre said with much exasperation, finally letting go of the napkin and momentarily forgetting about the stain on his shirt. "There are some things about me you don't need to know."

Trowa pouted further without noticing himself do so. Quatre could only gape as if he were doing something out of the ordinary. He watched as Quatre's face turned from determined to defeated as he tried his best to look right back at Trowa.

"You are one adorable piece of work... and let's not forget sexy," Quatre said with a loud sigh. "If you want to find out, you could always ask Duo. He'll decide if he wants to tell you or not."

"Why does it always have to be Duo?" Trowa asked immediately, finding it strange that he found himself acting like the jealous boyfriend he wasn't. Was he really falling deep into the conspiracy that he was starting to attach himself to Quatre too much? Was he starting to get deluded? Was it the anonymous romp between the sheets that had him hoping for a deeper relationship?

"Because there are some aspects of my life that I let Duo decide on," Quatre said, not one to be affected by Trowa's seeming jealousy. He retrieved a few bills from his pocket and left them on the table. "Do you mind if we pass by my place? I need to change this shirt," he said, pointing to the tiny, almost non-existent stain on said shirt.

Trowa, not willing to miss an opportunity to learn every aspect of Quatre's being, nodded. He hoped he didn't look too enthusiastic or he'd be mistaken for a fanatic - not that he wasn't, but he could at least be inconspicuous about it. He wanted to see Quatre's place not because he knew the other was rich, but because he wanted to see how Quatre lived. It would just be another piece of information to add to his growing collection of Quatre tidbits.

A relatively short drive later found Trowa staring at the massive residence that Quatre called home. Although Trowa had expected it, he never imagined such a beautiful sight. The entrance alone was stunning as black and gold metal gates opened up to a private road leading up to the large, rather extravagant looking abode that lay on the top. Trowa guessed that it was near impossible to get anywhere near the house on foot with the winding road and all the near jungle-like plants serving as decorative obstacles.

"It's beautiful," Trowa said as Quatre continued to drive up the never-ending road. "And hard to access," he added as an afterthought.

"I like my privacy," Quatre answered, finally pulling up into the driveway. "But there's an easier way to access it without having to drive all the way up. Maybe if you're good, I'll tell you the secret," Quatre said with a wink.

Ever the obedient puppy as he noticed he was becoming; Trowa nodded and then followed Quatre through the large double doors of the house. The inside, he noted, was more modest, decorated with a few paintings and nothing more. The only really phenomenal looking additions to the inside were the grand, intricately designed chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

"You live here alone?" Trowa asked. Just as he said it, loud, potentially hazardous music blasted through his ears. The sound was so deafening he thought his head would implode. He could do nothing but cover his ears to protect the well-being of his sense of hearing. Just as suddenly, the music stopped playing.

"Oops," Quatre said from beside him, toeing off his shoes and replacing the remote control he'd just used to turn on the stereos. "It's just reflex," he said. "And to answer your earlier question - yes, I live alone."

"No wonder you play such loud music," Trowa muttered, mourning the lifespan of his ear drums. He estimated that after the trauma to his ears, his ear drums would be completely dysfunctional by the time he turned 50.

"Hmm, I never thought of it that way," Quatre said insightfully before he shrugged it off and ran up two steps at a time to the upstairs which looked to be a bedroom.

Left alone to explore, Trowa shifted his eyes from corner to corner. He noted with disappointment that Quatre's house was rather bland for lack of a better word. It was too simple, too functional that it looked like it was only used for momentary visits whenever he decided to sleep. However, what unnerved him the most was the fact that most of the furniture was white - clean, pure white. It wasn't ugly at all. It just had no personality.

"Could I follow you upstairs?" Trowa raised his voice, hoping to escape the twilight zone for a little while. Perhaps Quatre's room held more personalities, revealing little more secrets into who Quatre was.

"Sure. You don't need to ask. I just need to get a new shirt," Quatre yelled from upstairs. Trowa didn't wait a second longer to follow him.

Hoping for a more colorful room, Trowa was disappointed to find white walls on an all too bright room with a white bed adorned with white sheets, white pillows, white carpet, white everything all around. Everything was arranged neatly, not one piece of item out of place. On the side table, there was nothing but a white clock blinking with thankfully red numbers that indicated the time. The only oddly colored objects in the room, he noted, were the simple metal bar he suspected was used for exercise and the metal headboard. The place looked like a cross between a hospital room and a prison cell.

"Do you get a lot of visitors?" Trowa asked just to start conversation. Quatre was emerging from the bathroom dressed in a new shirt which he was currently buttoning up. Trowa found himself staring at any exposed skin, noting the scars and nearly healing bruises visible from his view.

"Nobody's ever been in here," he said, throwing his undone necktie toward Trowa without stating his request. "This used to be my father's house. But other than that, that's about it," he said, shoving the shirt tails of his newly picked outfit into his pants.

Trowa inspected the tie that landed on his hand. The rather cute bear that adorned the tie was wearing a shirt that had the words 'I ain't no cuddly bear!' on it. Trowa raised an eyebrow before knotting the necktie quickly. He suspected that Quatre preferred not to do them himself, this having been the second time he'd been requested to knot a tie.

"What about the cleaning?" Trowa asked absently, unable to believe that such a clean house was not the result of visiting housekeepers.

"I do it myself."

What he considered massive, Quatre apparently considered tiny because Trowa thought that his tiny apartment was a much too large space to clean at least once a week. Really, Trowa couldn't imagine when Quatre even got the time to do so. He was all over the place - in his work, at the labs, even at the university. He was always on the run.

"Do you ever sleep?" he managed to blurt out as he stared at what looked to be an unused bed. He had to admit, the white sheets and what looked to be a down comforter looked really homey despite the very dull, lackluster room it was located in. He really didn't want to touch anything in fear of leaving his fingerprints on the too immaculate surroundings.

"I shouldn't have brought you here. I knew it was going to be a turn off," Quatre said much too dramatically as he dropped himself on the white bed. "Trowa, you wound me," he said with a pout, which was followed by laughter. Trowa thought he looked years younger buried in the fluffy blanket.

"Seriously, what is it with all the questions? Can't you just quietly enjoy images of me sleeping naked on this really big bed?"

Suddenly, the brain Trowa was known for left his skull. Now that Quatre put it, the image was actually mouthwatering, very enticing. Imagining Quatre naked and buried in all that fluffy white was turning him on.

"Uh... Ugh," he said, speaking in caveman-like quality. Forgotten was the scary-looking house he walked into. He was in the heaven division of la-la land and was only broken out of his stupor after Quatre grabbed the knotted tie from his hand.

"Really Trowa, you're the most adorable pervert I know," he said, standing up to arrange his clothes and put the tie over his neck. "Here, I'll show you how to get here," he added.

"Huh?" Trowa said, only partially understanding what Quatre had meant. Get where?

He didn't have time to ask any further because Quatre pulled on his arm and all but shoved him against the window to the room. From their position high up, it was easy to see the gates they had entered from below.

"You see that shrub next to the keypad?" he said, pointing far off, way down into the distance.

"There's a door hidden behind it. Go through it and take the elevator which leads up to this level. It leads to the outside of the house. When you get to this level, just knock and I'll open the door."

"Ok," Trowa said warily, not understanding why Quatre was telling him how to get there. Didn't he mention that no one else had ever been in the premises aside from his father and himself? Did Quatre want him to come by and check on him? Perhaps he wanted to engage in some of Trowa's deepest fantasies?

"If anything happens to me, I want you to come here and tear the place down," Quatre said, quickly answering Trowa's unasked question. The request sounded a little too strange, like someone from an underground organization would request of his most trusted lackey. Wait, was Trowa now a lackey, a criminal even?

"Are you hiding anything illegal in here?" Trowa asked warily. His eyes narrowed as he looked suspiciously at Quatre. The other merely shrugged at him before facing the massive window.

"You'll never know, now will you?" Quatre responded, refusing to elaborate on his reasons. For a moment, Trowa thought he saw Quatre's face contort into one of serious deliberation before it was completely replaced by a mask of good humor. "Not that you'll need to know," he added with a grin.

Trowa frowned but had no time to complain when Quatre pulled on the sleeve of his shirt. He was given no prior warning before he was pulled down the stairs and out the door. Trowa nearly stumbled each step of the way, futilely signaling his companion every now and then until he found himself positioned in the outside the front door. Quatre was already locking up before he could say anything.

"Can't you slow down?" Trowa said as he gripped the closest hard surface he could find. He almost tripped as Quatre zoomed past him to enter his car and start the engine.

"What are you waiting for handsome?" Quatre yelled, looking out the window. "I've got to get back to work. Where do you want me to drop you off?"

Not used to a rushed rendezvous he imagined could have been more romantic, Trowa sulked, grudgingly making his way to the passenger seat with a glum expression on his face. He barely had time to secure his seatbelt before the car sped down the long, winding driveway. Trowa had to hold on to stabilize himself and to ensure that he would not end up face first on the windshield.

"You could drop me off at my place," Trowa nearly squeaked, but at least he was finally able to answer Quatre's question. He continued to hang on, refusing to alert Quatre of his sudden fear. Apparently, when the blonde was in a hurry, he tended to atep on the gas, forcing it to zoom past the roads worse than a racecar driver would during competition. He could only hope that they didn't hit anything.

Braving the wild way Quatre drove all of a sudden, Trowa chanced a look at his current driver's face to asses the other's level of insanity. He was surprised to find that Quatre's face looked blankly ahead. He thought that it may have been the effect of the harmful drugs Quatre administered on himself, but dismissed it when he noticed that although Quatre's look was blank, he still had a look of concentration on his face.

"Quatre?" Trowa asked slowly, afraid that if he jolted Quatre out of his reverie, they would both end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Duo would probably end up beating his dead carcass into life for bringing harm unto his criminal associate.

Two blinks later, Quatre turned his head toward him before stepping on the brakes.

"Oops?" he offered in apology. "I tend to do that when I'm thinking about something else," he offered, sending Trowa a sheepish look. "Next time I do that, you better hit me on the head."

Trowa hesitated but nodded as Quatre tried to assure him that nothing was wrong. He considered bringing up the issue of Q30ZO but thought otherwise. It may have been the case that Quatre really did have his mind somewhere else. Trowa supposed that as long as Quatre paid more attention to the road from then on, he would not have anything to worry about.

"What were you thinking about that could have possibly distracted you from driving?" Trowa asked, nearly hysterical. He tried to calm down, but the idea of Quatre driving like a madman while he wasn't around was a very scary thought. Who would remind him when he was alone?

"I was just mentally checking my schedule for the rest of the day," Quatre said off-handedly as if it was a mundane detail.

Trowa shook his head, not saying anything more. He really needed to shut up. He was aware that he was of the tight-lipped variety, but he sure was beginning to become more vocal because he was involving himself in other people's business. It certainly wasn't like him and Catherine would surely have been surprised at the change.

Instead of loosing himself to his current obsession any further, Trowa chose instead to stare out the window, trying to avoid looking at Quatre. Surely the image of Quatre alone would bring about perverted thoughts that would break his concentration. Looking at nothing at all helped immensely when he was trying to evaluate his options of how to help the other. So intense was his evaluation that he did not notice that he was already being dropped off. With his apartment complex looming by, Trowa somehow came up with the most viable solution available to him. He had to seek Duo's council. The very possessive co-criminal surely knew a lot about Quatre. Trowa could only hope that Duo would be cooperative. Otherwise, he would have to resort to other tactics, which he was afraid he hadn't considered just yet.


	12. Part Twelve

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twelve)**

Trowa had never been so confused in all his life. Perhaps it was because he'd been living in the comfortable confines of four walls where all he had to do was eat, sleep, and rely on his sister's wisdom. This was not the case for the real world, he realized too slowly. In the real world, he had to deal with odd people with equally odd hobbies and illogical rationalizations.

Trowa frowned. He remembered Quatre's response to his discoveries, which he already apparently knew. It was more than disappointing to find out that his newest subject of obsession was knowingly putting himself in danger by ingesting harmful drugs at doses meant only for cows. Now that he thought about it, it would take about seven Quatres to make one cow.

"Hey, Tro, daydreaming again?"

"Hmm?" Trowa answered, imagining stacking up seven skinny Quatres against the silhouette of a cow. His guess was quite accurate.

"Snap out of it. I'm skipping work because you called me here. This better be important."

Shaking his head and freeing his mind of absurdities, Trowa turned his head up to Duo's annoyed expression. It might have been just him, but Duo looked unusually irate, something he'd never really seen in the man.

"I wanted to ask you some questions," Trowa said, trying to act as serious as he could lest Duo decide that he wasn't worth the time.

"Really?" Duo responded sardonically. "And where might your cute little clipboard be?"

"I don't have it," Trowa said, motioning for Duo to sit down in an empty seat. Their discussion, he predicted, would take some time since the person he wanted to discuss always needed a lot of analysis.

He watched as Duo flopped himself down, heedless of balance as the chair almost slid out from beneath him. A rope of long hair swung lazily as its owner settled himself.

"It's about Quatre," Trowa started.

"When isn't it about Quatre?" Duo replied, making himself comfortable by grabbing a mug of coffee from off Trowa's table. He didn't seem to mind that it was somebody else's.

"I found out what that thing he's taking does to the body."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

Trowa frowned again, realizing that Duo was probably going to be as unhelpful as Quatre was. However, there was still hope in finding out why. If Duo did not want to help his friend get rid of the habit then he could at least find out the reasons why Quatre wouldn't stop and why Duo didn't make an effort to stop him.

"Why?" Trowa questioned and it was all he needed to say. It was a loaded question without sounding like one and for the first time, Trowa was pleased that his lack of communication skills was working to his advantage. All he had to do was utter one word and he knew Duo would interpret it any way he wanted.

"He needs it," Duo said after a brief moment of silence. He seemed to have contemplated his answer before speaking again. "I know all that shit about complications afterwards, but he's well aware of all that. You see, without Q30ZO, Quatre would be docile. With a guy like him, that's the last thing you would want."

"Yes, I figured that out, but it would be better to stop now while it's early. In the long run he will be permanently paralyzed as opposed to dealing with miniature attacks that will render him temporarily immobile," Trowa reasoned, attempting to reach for a binder he had especially prepared to explain his case. He was a scientist first and foremost.

However, before he could even open up his binder, Duo's hand fell over it as an indication that he did not want to hear about Trowa's theories. He looked exasperated as he slid the binder away from eager hands so that it was no longer within reach.

"He needs it Trowa," Duo said again as if his first point had not already been emphasized. "Haven't you noticed that he's always in a rush?"

"Yes?" Trowa uncertainly as he leaned closer to Duo, unconsciously demanding answers although he was unaware of the action.

"Quatre never stops. The guy sleeps four hours at most every night. He's got a company to run, a company to steal from and a whole bunch of family members who are relying on him. If this is about finding time for you, forget it Trowa. You'll only be a burden."

Despite feeling the aura of anger coming from his snappish companion, Trowa held his ground. He was not going to let the topic go until he was satisfied. He did, however, manage to move an inch or two away from Duo. As insulting as the statement was, there was no question that Duo was beginning to look a little more intimidating than usual.

"I don't see how he can't find time," Trowa replied, attempting to defend himself. "Just yesterday he brought me out for lunch and then we stopped by his place."

"What? He brought you home?"

When Duo stood unexpectedly, Trowa was forced to get off his chair and step back. Perhaps he had been provoking the other.

"Uh, he did," Trowa said meekly, reverting back to being less assertive. "He had to make a quick stop there before he dropped me off."

Trowa stood unsteadily, ready to make a run for it if Duo wanted a fight. He was almost sure that he hit a nerve he didn't even know existed. There must have been something wrong with what he said because he'd never expected such a response. He was not a coward, but he was still smart enough to keep his friendly relations with Duo if he wanted to learn more about Quatre.

"Nobody's ever been in there, you know," Duo said thoughtfully, looking down on the floor. His energy from earlier seemed to have dissipated. That confused Trowa even more. "How does his room look like?"

Trowa did not know where to start. It was strange enough when Duo mentioned that nobody had ever been in the place but it was even stranger that the first thing Duo wanted to find out about was the room. He didn't find Quatre's place the least bit suspicious. It was very large, very spacious, very empty, and very white. That was the gist of what he could remember. He could almost picture the sadness that seemed to emanate from the place and he could almost hear the blaring loud music that greeted them when they stepped in the front door. There was so much to tell Duo and he didn't know which ones he should mention.

"There wasn't much," Trowa started, aware that Duo was now concentrated on him. "His room is white," he said, visualizing what he'd seen. "Everything is white save for the metal headboard. The sheets are white, the drawers are white, and there's not a speck of dirt or stain anywhere. It's like someone scrubs it clean everyday."

Surprisingly enough, Duo laughed. He took a seat in the once abandoned chair and rubbed his chin, not once looking at Trowa.

"So his room has no personality? I designed his wardrobe organizer, you know. It's that mechanical thing that randomly picks out a complete matching outfit for him. Before me, he'd show up for work wearing two different pairs of socks. The guy never takes care of himself."

As if any words from him would break the moment, Trowa opted to remain silent and sat back down. There was something strange about the way Duo talked about Quatre and for the first time, he suspected a past between the two. It had never been so obvious to him. He almost hit himself for not noticing it sooner. There were always hints of jealousy coming from the other.

"You've got my attention. Ask me anything you want," Duo said rather cheerfully, a mask of subtle concern evident on his face. Trowa could almost decipher the look of dejection and hopelessness on the other. It was as if Duo wanted to help, but could do nothing.

"How did you meet him?" Trowa started carefully. He was never the one to consult when it came to relationships but he was not so dense as to dismiss other people's feelings toward situations that dealt with deeply-rooted relationships.

"I was eighteen," Duo said. "My work was to secure the storage facilities. I was pretty good with computers so they hired me to design a new security system. That was when he dropped by, dressed in that black suit of course. He was skinny, but he'd managed to knock out every person in the room. He approached me and that was when I screamed bloody murder. He knocked me out with one blow."

Trowa could not help but smile as Duo chuckled and reminisced about their first encounter. He, too, could not forget his first encounter with Quinn lab's most famous thief. Quatre was extravagant in every way. His presence demanded attention and his movements rivaled perfection.

"He got me cornered the second time we met," Duo continued, this time looking more upbeat than he had been earlier. "He wanted me to figure out how to open one of the top security storage units and promised me that he'd do me a favor if I did it for him. I was a poor sucker back then so I made a deal. I said I'd open it for him if he gave me money. I told him that I wanted him to support the orphanage I'd come from. He was a filthy rich guy after all. I wasn't stupid enough not to know who he was."

This time, Trowa frowned, aware that the stupid party Duo was referring to was him. He couldn't help it if he didn't recognize Quatre the first time. He was from out of town and the only reading materials he'd ever touched were scholastic books.

"I guess he isn't such a bad guy," Trowa said aloud while contemplating that same thought inside his head. He wanted to believe that Quatre was stealing for a good cause. If he was doing charitable work then there was hope for him.

"Tell me about it," Duo responded. "When I got tired of helping him steal, I stopped penetrating the system and figuring out the security codes, but he never stopped helping. One Saturday I visited the orphanage to inform them that Quatre Winner's patronage was no longer offered when he surprised me. It took me three days to rack my brains and come up with a plausible excuse for the lack of support and it was all for nothing. Quatre was already there, reading to the kids. Nobody told me he'd been there every Saturday and never stopped helping even when I'd broken the deal. Since then, I'd been visiting with him and bringing in groceries every Saturday."

Trowa could not believe what he was hearing, torn between wanting to reprimand Quatre for doing such a terrible act and wanting to ask forgiveness for judging too soon. It was amazing how much he'd learned just by getting Duo to take him seriously. The other man was a gold mine when it came to information about Quatre because they seemed to share a past he could only hope he too could develop.

"That was how you'd become lo... friends?" Trowa said, almost slipping. It was a very plausible suspicion that they'd been lovers, but he was not just about to drive Duo away when the other had started to tell him more. Despite the cheery attitude, Duo had been one of the toughest people to access. It was obvious that his outgoing attitude was partly contrived to hide a deeper anguish.

"Yeah," Duo answered casually. It was either he did not hear Trowa's slip-up or he was simply ignoring what he heard. "That's when I became obsessed."

Trowa blinked, not really expecting such a word.

"You know, kind of like the way you're obsessed with him," Duo elaborated. He grinned when Trowa shook his head. Denial was in the air. "Trust me. I've been through the same thing and I know what it is. From one obsessed freak to another, let me tell you a little secret."

Feeling more eager than embarrassed, Trowa scooted a little closer toward Duo. Finally, he was going to get some answers and all he needed to do was mention that he'd been in Quatre's room. He should have done so earlier. It could have saved him a lot of trouble.

"Quatre has 29 sisters, and being the heir to a great fortune, he's got a whole lot of companies to command. He lost his mother right after he was born and his father when he was fifteen."

Trowa almost choked. The number 29 did not seem to register with him. He could almost imagine the poor mother bearing such a large number of children. It was a miracle that the mother hadn't kicked the bucket earlier. She's made it all the way to 30 even.

"Now, before you start asking questions about the 29 sisters, I should tell you that all 29 are test tube babies."

"Test tube babies?" Trowa asked. "Where did you find out all these information?"

"I control the security system in here, Trowa," Duo said smugly. "I can find your resume or your life story if I wanted to."

"Does Quatre know?"

"Yeah, he doesn't mind," Duo answered. "It's comforting to have someone else know about the shit your whole family's been through."

"Oh," Trowa answered, a bit taken back by the rather crude language, but interested all the same.

"You see," Duo said, continuing his revelation. "The Winner parents couldn't produce children of their own. There are tons of solutions to that problem out there but they happened to be acquainted with one Dr. Harold Quinn. Mr. Winner and Dr. Quinn were very good friends so funding a new facility was no problem. That's how Quinn labs started."

"Soon, the Winners were providing our good doctor with gametes, producing girls one after the other. But the Winners wanted a male heir because only a boy could be legally handed the family's assets. They wanted at least one boy to secure the financial future of their girls. At the same time, the Winners didn't know that their friend had been introducing illnesses to the girls. When they found out, they wanted to break lose from him, but they couldn't. Dr. Quinn's lab was and is still the only one available that could do research and find cures for such rare diseases. They were committed to their original agreement."

"After the 29th girl, Mrs. Winner became despondent and went into moments of hysteria, pleading with Mr. Winner to at least attempt one final try at producing an heir. She wanted a son who would protect their daughters, not only financially. She wanted a healthy boy fit enough to care for his sisters. As the story goes, Quatre was born a natural birth and his mother passed away right after he was introduced into this world."

"You see Trowa, Quatre doesn't have time for anyone, including himself. His responsibility lies with the 29 and he believes that his sole purpose in life is to take care of his sisters. Imagine visiting each one of them when they're sick, keeping track of their illnesses and financially supporting them, their husbands, and children with one skinny, overworked body. Quatre is the ultimate machine run with Q30ZO fluid, Tro, and he's the saddest guy I've ever known."

Trowa could not answer right away, at a loss with what he should say. He knew the story disturbed him and brought a deeper understanding of Quatre, but it did not mean that he was going to stop Quatre from going through with what he was doing to himself. He wanted to question why Duo had not tried helping, but knew that it was unfair to come to that conclusion too quickly. He was concentrating on that idea too much that he did not completely catch what Duo said next.

"...is the code name."

"What was that?" Trowa questioned, physically shaking himself out of his musings.

"I said that the bottles he'd been stealing all represent something. Give me an example of one of the substances stolen from you."

"Uh, Q15NO25," Trowa helpfully supplied.

"Here's how to crack the code," Duo said with an unreadable expression on his face. "Listen carefully because every letter and number in that code means something."

Trowa furrowed his brows, but concentrated on what Duo was saying anyway.

"Q15NO25 means Quinn's test subject number 15, disease number 25."

"Quinn's test subject?" Trowa questioned. "You mean Quatre's 15th sister?"

"Exactly."

"And he has 29?"

"Yup."

"And number fifteen has 25 diseases?"

"25 or more Tro," he was corrected.

"Then Q30ZO," Trowa started examining. The answer was obvious but it was also obvious that Quatre's code was different from that of his sisters'.

"You're wondering about Quatre's aren't you?" Duo asked. Trowa could not dispel his growing aggravation.

"Q30ZO means Quinn's test subject number 30, zero state."

"Zero state?"

"There are 2 reasons why Quatre is said to be in the zero state. One, he has zero diseases unlike his sisters and two, you take away Q30ZO from him and he becomes zero. In other words, taking that substance away from him renders him paralyzed, unable to move even when his brain is still functioning. It's a scary situation, like being trapped in your own body. That's the reason why Quatre has to have it. It's not for him, Tro; it's for the other 29."

Unable to digest all the information he'd just been given, Trowa stood up and walked out of the room. He was too preoccupied with figuring out a solution to Quatre's problem that he did not hear Duo's call or the wayward chair blocking his way. All he could focus on was the image of Quatre, the man he'd come to know and the man he'd come to become fond of. In an instant, his perfectly organized world was overturned and his rational thoughts assigned him one important mission and that was to rescue his favorite thief out of the impossible situation he was in.


	13. Part Thirteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Thirteen)**

Quatre closed his eyes momentarily, mentally checking his schedule for the tenth time that day. It was not because he didn't know what appointments he had to keep. It was simply because he had such a strange feeling of foreboding ever since he got up in the morning. He couldn't pinpoint what triggered it. Nothing had gone amiss so far, but he still could not dismiss the warnings his gut instincts were sending him. It was driving him mad checking behind his back every five minutes.

"The construction crew would like to discuss a different arrangement with you Mr. Winner."

Quatre nodded, mind only half-attuned to the occurrences around him. To everyone else, he looked like he was focused entirely on the meeting. It served his purposes considering that it was his responsibility to listen to the woes of his disgruntled board members.

"Very well," he said, not looking one bit confused as to what had been discussed. The same problems did tend to arise more than half the time. "I have no problems with changing the way things are. If their suggestions could make our work more efficient then it must be heard. Please allow me to set-up an appointment with them as soon as possible."

"Thank you for your concern."

Quatre nodded in response, feeling a little guilty that he got away with half-listening. One of these days, he was sure that he was going to get caught. It was only a matter of time.

"Any more business we have to attend to?" Quatre asked his complete assembly of uptight executives who he mused have probably never seen the light of day. Then again, neither has he.

"I think that's all we have in our agenda today Mr. Winner."

"Very well," Quatre said, standing up as he was all too eager to leave. "It was a pleasure to see you all today. I do hope that our next meeting will bring more good news and more constructive discussions. Suggestions will be welcome as they always are but please leave the extreme propositions behind," he said, causing a few people to smile in agreement and a few others to look away in shame. "Please enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

With that said, Quatre was the first to leave the room. Without a second thought, he moved on into the adjacent room which by then was already filled with a different set of people. His job, he decided, was too tedious it required a very well-trained and naturally patient person to get through it. He was neither of the two. In spite of that, sheer will-power and sense of responsibility were enough to survive him through the dreary days.

"Mr. Winner?"

Quatre closed his eyes, a habit of his when he needed a quick escape, before scanning the room for familiar faces. Upon identifying the complete assembly as the one he was supposed to meet next, Quatre assumed his seat at the head of the table and acknowledged the people around him.

"Good afternoon," he greeted formally, his brilliant smile managing to woo his companions into focusing their attention on him and only him. It was the object of the game after all.

"Mr. Winner."

Hearing them call out his name was proof enough that they wanted him exactly where he was, most likely to burn his ears about different topics for the next few hours. It was times like those that he wished he were playing hide and seek with Trowa in the labs instead. At least the activity was not half as boring.

"We have a problem."

Quatre managed not to roll his eyes. He already knew as much and nothing short of a bomb going off in the middle of the large conference table would surprise him. He looked down at his folded hands, looking as if he was thinking deeply and feeling for their newest predicament. In truth, he was counting the hours to when he'd finally indulge in a longer escape even if that escape did come with a responsibility to his sisters. The Quinn labs were going to be his playground later that afternoon and he was looking forward to it.

"Nothing that can't be solved, I assure you," he answered smoothly before tackling another dull meeting. Truly, all problems could be solved with time, effort, or a change of tactics.

oOo

The spaces were tight; they always were, but it wasn't helping his current position, especially since he was feeling the heat intensified by the lack of breathable air around him. He was nervous and was sure of it. He did not remember ever feeling anxious whenever he made his scheduled trips to rob the lab. In fact, the trips were like child's play to him. It was so routine that it shouldn't have bothered him at all. It made him think back to the feeling of unease he'd been having all day.

"Tell me about it, that guy is the loudest ever. He's too damn charismatic you can't hate him though."

Quatre swiped a hand through his forehead and continued crawling. Sometimes it was interesting to hear the conversations of the lab's employees as he crawled through familiar, cramped vents. He suspected that the employees were talking about Duo. Perhaps he was not familiar with all the lab's employees enough to identify the appropriate person but a charismatic, loud guy couldn't be far from a description of Duo.

"And that new chemist... so hot you can't even touch him."

"Uh huh," Quatre thought in his head, continuing to crawl his way through. It wouldn't do to jump into the conversation and get caught after all. He did his lab visits carefully enough that they didn't notice him and since he'd been feeling uneasy enough as it is, he thought it best to be especially careful.

Quatre moved along further, hearing even more work gossip as he crawled along.

"...don't know how he does it. He's so young he doesn't even look like he's done with graduate school. The lucky bastard found the job right off the bat."

Twisting his body blindly to the left, Quatre continued on and started blurring out the conversations that were reaching his ears. With time, it became easier to distinguish which conversations he wanted to hear and which not.

He placed his back against hard aluminum and his bent knee against another end, sliding effortlessly down a rather large pipe. Landing with a barely audible thud, he bent backwards and reached over for a familiar bar. He closed his eyes. They were useless anyway. It was dark enough that he might as well have been blind.

"Five, nine, four, three," he recited in his head as he expertly estimated the point of his entrance. "It's the south entrance from the top, reconfigured to accommodate the new facility so the loose end must be between the seventh and fourteenth but not before the ninth."

Still bent backwards, Quatre tapped the estimated entryway and not long after smiled as his secret metal door broke open without a sound. Perhaps it wasn't bad that he tried a new entrance route that day. It made things more interesting for him and fun too.

"Trowa must be busy," Quatre continued thinking to himself. "I better not disturb him and just slip in quietly."

Sure enough, when the room was revealed, he found Trowa working diligently with his mice, not even noticing that Quatre had slipped in behind him. Quatre licked his lips, appreciating the glory that was the sexy chemist with his back to him. He had the urge to seduce Trowa yet again, but decided against it when he noticed that the other was too busy and far too serious to be disturbed. He controlled himself. He was a considerate man after all.

Knowing very well that there would be another time for flirting with the scientist, Quatre soundlessly swiped a bottle somewhere to the left of Trowa and slipped back into the hole from which he'd come from. He closed the metal door but not before sending one of those familiar flying kisses Trowa's way. Trowa looked behind him on reflex, but didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

Satisfied that he was done with his work there, Quatre climbed up a different passageway to arrive at his next destination. Unfortunately, his next undertaking was tougher. The spaces were tighter and the breathing was harder, making him regret going there when he'd been feeling funny this morning. Shrugging to himself that he had to do it anyway, Quatre squeezed his way through a long passageway for which there seemed to be no end. He hated going through that way the most, but he had no choice. There was a vial missing from Trowa's lab.

"A little more," he estimated in his head. He was most likely three feet away from the loose part of the metal cylinder.

When he reached his destination, Quatre quickly opened the loose metal door and jumped down, unmindful of what was below simply because he could not breathe anymore. When fresh air filled his lungs, he stood up from his crouching position only to face the head of the labs. Dr. Quinn was rather amused while eyeing his uninvited guest.

"I had a feeling this was going to be your next target," the old man said. "It's Q15NO03 you're looking for, isn't it?"

Quatre looked at the man indifferently, not really caring that he was caught. It was rare that they'd catch him or even go through the trouble of finding out where he was going to appear next. In truth, that fact that the head of the labs went out of his way to greet him was what bothered him the most.

"Like you could stop me anyway," Quatre answered, staring defiantly at the old man's eyes. "Although I must admit that seeing you was not one of the better moments of my day."

"Oh, you're strong boy. Your father trained you well," Dr. Quinn said, approaching Quatre with a smile too calm to identify. He seemed to ignore the insult thrown at him in favor of provoking something out of the thief. "But I recently found a weakness."

"I have none," Quatre stated confidently, not taking a step back even if the person approaching him made his skin crawl.

"Oh, but you do, son. You just don't know about it."

"Try me," Quatre said, crossing his arms and continuing to stand his ground.

Just as he said it, he felt a pair of arms encircle him from behind. Nobody touched him unless he allowed it. It was a rule. Quatre almost elbowed whoever it was who dared touch him but couldn't move an inch when the owner of the arms spoke.

"Quatre."

He didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. No wonder those same arms were holding on to him gently. Perhaps the old man was right. He had a weakness he never realized until now.

"I'm sorry Quatre but this is the only way I know how to help you."

"It's okay Trowa," Quatre whispered, assuring him. He could not blame Trowa, only himself for allowing him to learn too much. It never was helpful to drag other people into his life problems as Duo had warned him time and time again. Somehow, he just didn't manage to think ahead this time around.

"Well," the old man said, diverting Quatre's attention away from his captor. "What did I tell you? This is probably the only man in this entire institution that you wouldn't dare hit."

Quatre sent him a look that could have made anyone else cower in fear.

"Very dirty," he said with all the intensity that an angry prey could possibly express.

"Don't worry Quatre. It's going to be alright," Trowa reassured him from behind and Quatre couldn't help but shut his mouth despite not believing any of Trowa's words. Trowa, naive as he was to the situation, did not know what he was talking about. He must have falsely reached the conclusion that the only way to help Quatre was to request the help of the lab's head. It was unfortunate that he didn't know better.

Quatre closed his eyes, again trying to allow himself a momentary escape from the situation. He should have been more cautious. The funny feeling he'd been having all morning must have been enough of a warning. It was, as he just recently found out, a premonition that he was going to get caught in a most undesirable way.

He felt Trowa bury his head on the back of his neck and the unexpected action caused him to stiffen. How was he supposed to react to that? Was Trowa trying to calm him down? If he was trying to then he wasn't doing a very good job. Quatre felt a lot more nervous than he did a few moments earlier. Knowing that Trowa was getting involved in his problems was not helping. The chemist was such a sweetheart that it killed him to know that he was now inadvertently dragged into the mess that was his life. He regretted sharing too much information with Trowa. Maybe Duo was right after all.

He looked up again to send Dr. Quinn another vicious glare when he noticed the insanely large injection the man had in his hands. It was filled with a suspicious, yellow liquid. Quatre hoped the old man wasn't planning to jab the thing anywhere near him because with that big a needle and that much liquid, he knew it was going to hurt like hell.

"Just a little and we'll be done," the old man said, closing in on him.

Quatre wanted to smack the man. What part of the giant needle was little?

He was alarmed when Dr. Quinn tilted his head to the left and pulled down the zipper of his garment just a bit. Quatre thought it absurd to put the very large, pointy object anywhere near his neck of all places.

"Ah!" he couldn't help but let past his lips when he felt it jammed down the side of his throat. With the needle on him, Trowa behind him, and a burning sensation surrounding him, there was really no room for escape. Trowa's rubbing and soothing whispers weren't helping all that much, but he had to admit that it felt nice.

It took forever for the needle to leave him and for the pain to turn into a dull ache but when it did; he leaned helplessly against Trowa in an attempt to keep himself upright. When he blinked his eyes open, he caught a glimpse of Trowa's remorseful expression.

Quatre had to close his eyes and smile. Trowa was so sweet even in a time and situation such as the one they were in. The poor thing was probably confused.

"S' okay Trowa," Quatre slurred as he fought to keep himself conscious. "...s' not your fault."

Before he gave in to darkness, all he could think of was how foolish he was to involve the innocent chemist in something as complicated as the situation he was in. He wanted to tell Duo he was right all along but most of all; he wanted to ask Trowa's forgiveness for having him go through something that would probably change his life as well. All he could do was chant an 'I'm sorry' over and over again in his mind before he completely gave in to the drug.


	14. Part Fourteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Fourteen)**

The feeling of grogginess combined with the feeling of danger was never a good sign and it was with caution that Quatre opened his eyes to the bright lights seemingly intent on blinding him. The last feeling he remembered before passing out was remorse, deep remorse that had something to do with Trowa. For some reason, he could not grasp his situation just yet.

"I see you've finally woken up."

Quatre craned his neck and directed his gaze to the source of the voice. Realizing where he was, he berated himself for forgetting. The voice was a clue. It was that and the fact that he was currently shackled to a gurney. The cool metal retraining his wrists were uncomfortable and certainly not welcome.

"You used him," were the first words off Quatre's mouth. His voice was hoarse and sounded strange to his ears.

"He came to me," was the answer.

Adjusting his eyes to the lights above, Quatre was finally able to spot Dr. Quinn not too far away. He was holding a tray of some sort. On it were vials of blood by the dozens. Not for once did the old man look like a crazy scientist.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't involve him," Quatre said, not struggling as the doctor approached him and drew his blood. He stretched his neck hoping to reduce the stiffness. It was certainly not a good time to escape because he felt like lead weight. Whatever was injected into him was a little too strong.

"Oh, what interesting clues you give me Quatre. I don't remember you requesting the same for Mr. Maxwell."

"Duo involved himself out of his own will."

"And so did Mr. Barton."

Quatre frowned, knowing very well that he had something to do with both incidences. Still, Duo was different. Trowa was far too naive, far too optimistic to be involved in such a twisted conspiracy. It was a problem that brought about misery, one that he'd rather deal with on his own.

"I see that it's still guilt that drives you."

"Don't act like you know me," Quatre murmured. No conviction was evident in his manner of speech. His answers were so half-hearted one would think that he really wasn't annoyed. There certainly was annoyance, but with that came a feeling of relief that the capture had given him time to rest.

"Ah, but I know you of course. You are my son after all."

"Stop your delusions," Quatre said, closing his eyes and trying to relax further. "You may have been instrumental to my sisters' births, but it was my mother and father alone who conceived me."

"How heartless of you Quatre, but then again you are and have always been hostile towards me."

"I act within reason. Are you done taking my blood? That is unless, of course, you're planning to fill an entire tank."

"Be patient boy. Getting you to sit down takes a lot of work and since you barely come by, I might as well take more than enough. Who knows when I will see you next? If you're opposed to this method, would you rather I take this same blood for elsewhere? There are 29 other sources after all."

"Don't touch my sisters," Quatre hissed, for the first time loosing his cool since he'd woken up. There was nothing more infuriating to him that having to hear any of his sisters' safety threatened. It did not matter that keeping track of them all at once was hard enough.

"They resent you."

"I know."

"They hate you."

"That is something I've come to accept and I'm sure something you will never understand old man."

Quatre sighed as the deeply embedded needle left his arm. Despite the number of injuries he'd collected over the years, needles were still his greatest dread, never mind that he injected himself everyday.

"But thanks for... you know," Quatre added. Dr. Quinn was lucky he was even being vocal about it. The only way to get him to rest was to knock him out completely and although the doctor employed quite a sadistic method, the end result was still the same. He estimated around five or so hours of uninterrupted sleep, something he would not dare do by his own will.

"And you always wonder why you never grow..." the doctor murmured.

"So, are you letting me off easy or will I have to work my way through this maze of yours?"

"Not so fast boy," Dr. Quinn answered. "There is still the issue of you assaulting numerous of my employees. They will demand compensation and you very well know that I will give it to them."

"I don't think even half of them read that crazy contract of yours," Quatre responded, making a face that said that he didn't like it one bit.

"Well then, it is my job to inform them," the doctor said. "After all, they also agreed to work under hazardous conditions. It is only proper that I attend to their mental happiness in exchange for working at such an unsafe environment."

"Fine, fine," Quatre said. "I know I'm the hazardous and unsafe condition in your little speech. But if they hack me to pieces, it'll still be your loss."

"I'm glad we've reached an agreement."

Quatre rolled his eyes, knowing that it was fair and somehow made a lot of sense. Put in simple terms, Dr. Quinn was going to let his previously injured employees have a go at him to release some of their steam. It certainly was promoting his employees' mental wellness even if it was such a crazy way of doing it.

"Attention employees of Quinn Laboratories," was broadcast over the entire building. Quatre did not even notice that the doctor had picked up the communications device. "If you have been hit, scratched, beaten or otherwise harmed by our elusive thief, I am now giving you the chance, based on our contract, to claim reprisal. All parties interested, please gather at lab 32T and you will be given ample room to extract your revenge."

Dr. Quinn placed a hand over the microphone and checked with Quatre.

"Any requests?" he asked with nonchalance plastered on his face.

"Anything but the face," Quatre said just as seriously. "Other than that, feel free to strike as they will."

The doctor nodded before relinquishing his hold on the microphone and continuing his announcement.

"Our thief only requests that you do not touch his face. I repeat, anything but the face. Any indiscretions will be reported to me and anyone found guilty of not following this one rule will face suspension or expulsion. Oh, and do please note that weapons are not allowed."

Cutting off the connection to the speaker system, Dr. Quinn approached Quatre to remove the restraints.

"You won't beat them senseless before they get the chance to touch you, of course," he instructed, fully aware of Quatre's capabilities. Quatre merely laughed, rubbing at his newly released wrists.

"If that's what you're worried about, I won't fight back. Your contract is crazy but seems fair enough. Besides, I doubt that I'll be functional enough to move as efficiently after you took out half my blood supply."

Quatre sat up, holding a hand up to his head. After being knocked out, he was still dizzy and his eyesight was not at its best. Nevertheless, he had to figure out a way to get out of room 32T. It had been a while since he'd been there and only half his concentration surely would not do him very good. He had to get out of there before they decided to beat him up to a pulp.

"Care to give me any clues as to how to get out of that room?" he decided to ask. It didn't hurt to try.

"You are an expert on this building, Quatre," Dr. Quinn answered, facing away and arranging a number of vials atop a steel table. "I'm sure you'll find your own creative way out."

Quatre grumbled before examining the flimsy robe barely hanging off of him. If he was going into a room filled with angry individuals like that then he might as well have been naked. That was unless Trowa was there, in which case he could tease the other. Then again, Trowa had no reason to be there since he'd never really harmed him.

"I need my clothes," he said, standing up to stretch his arms and legs. "That is, unless you want me to cause a scene with my bare bum."

"Top shelf to the right of you," the doctor answered, continuing to pay attention to the work before him. It was obvious from the way he talked that such events were almost like a daily routine because at that building, it almost was. "The meetings and appointments you missed have already been cancelled and rescheduled."

Sure that it would be too much to ask for a dressing room, Quatre threw his robe on the gurney he'd vacated and proceeded to retrieve the black suit he wore earlier before putting it on. When he finished, he waved a short goodbye to the doctor and took his time walking to the designated room. At least the little details about his office work had been taken care of.

"Do take care of yourself. You weigh five pounds less since I last saw you," he heard the doctor say before the almost weightless sounding metal doors swished closed. It was going to hurt, he knew that already, but by then, he preferred the pain over anything else. Maybe it would help to keep him awake longer.

oOo

"Sadistic creeps," Quatre muttered as he scrubbed himself in the bathroom, making sure that he wasn't too harsh on any of his injuries lest they break open more than they already had. "Crazy lady with the ID card," he continued muttering, letting the gentle flow of the water above soothe the long gash along his back.

He had gotten himself out of the room and back to his home longer than expected. Given that he was groggy with an angry mob attached to his retreating form, Quatre was glad that he even got out of there alive. After a long day such as that, there was nothing more refreshing than a hot shower.

It was halfway through rinsing his hair that Quatre heard the doorbell. Thinking that it was one of his sisters, he immediately grabbed a towel and ran down the stairway in haste. None of his sisters usually visited him unless they were either in trouble or infuriated. He hoped neither was the case.

"I'm coming," he said, stopping just before he collided with the front door. Yanking the door open, he was quite surprised to find Trowa standing stock still at the other side of the door. Seeing him clearly was getting harder because the remnants of shampoo and conditioner were dripping down his head.

"Trowa?" he said when his visitor said nothing. He kept a tight hold on the towel barely making its full circle around his waist. If the towel came off and there were cameras nearby, he'd surely make the next day's front cover. The state he was in was bad enough already.

"I, uh..." Trowa answered dumbly.

Upon closer inspection, Trowa was not staring at his face and was instead staring at his currently dripping, bare chest. It was a perfect opportunity to torment Trowa with a strip tease, but now was not the time.

"Trowa, you've seen me completely naked before," he said flatly. "Stop ogling and get in here before the rest of the world sees me like this as well."

When Trowa refused to budge, he forcefully pulled the other inside and dragged him all the way to his room. He instructed the still gaping Trowa to sit down on the bed and wait while he washed off the rest of the soap and shampoo off of him. His eyes were getting irritated by the shampoo drippings and he did not want red eyes for the rest of the day.

Sighing quite loudly, Quatre reentered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Rinsing the rest of the cleaning products on him was in order. Trowa's sudden, unexpected appearance was to be dealt with later.

It was not long after when Quatre exited the bathroom with a much larger towel tied around his waist. On one hand, he held a first aid kit while the other was in the process of drying his hair. Quatre snapped his fingers once when he noticed Trowa still staring at the bathroom door and instructed him to move to make room for him.

Quatre, still tired with another event waiting in line that night, flopped face down onto the bed and reached his hand out to tug at Trowa's sleeve.

"Since you're here, you might as well patch me up," he suggested. He would have done it himself, but for some reason, he felt like being pampered. "Please?" he added when Trowa did not respond.

It was two minutes later when Quatre decided to look up and pout at Trowa's unresponsive form when he noticed him staring, quite fascinated, at his back. Quatre tugged at Trowa's sleeve again.

"I'm sorry," was Trowa's initial reaction. "I thought I was helping you."

Quatre frowned, turning over and supporting himself on his elbows.

"It was the most logical thing to do," Quatre said. "I don't blame you for it."

"But your back and..." Trowa said, pointing to his badly bruised chest. "I shouldn't have..."

"Trowa," Quatre warned, lying back down on the bed and grabbing Trowa's face close to his own for emphasis. "You did what you had to do. This, however," he said, pointing to his chest. "Injuries are a regular occurrence with me. You should know that by now. Now, will you help me out or will I have to do this myself?"

Trowa blinked, as if caught unprepared and began scrambling for the first aid kit beside him. When Quatre was satisfied that Trowa had gotten over the guilt, he flipped back onto his stomach, hoping that the distraction would work.

"I thought weapons were not allowed," Trowa said as Quatre felt antiseptic being swabbed down the longest, most prominent wound.

"Mix ID card with incensed lady and you get sharp pointy object embedded on my back," Quatre said shrugging. "I must say that there are some really brainy people working in there. I still can't figure out how they managed to keep me in there longer that I intended."

"The answer might be that they were more than two dozen people and you were only one," Trowa responded.

Quatre smiled as he felt the gentle touches at his back.

"But I made it just in time," Quatre said, stretching his arms up over his head. "I have a charity event I have to attend to later tonight."

"You should skip it."

Quatre laughed, amused that Trowa thought such things were that simple. He considered it his civic duty to attend such events even when they were tedious. They served a much higher purpose and that was to request that equally wealthy businessmen cough up their money for the needy. It was really tricky business.

"I'm going Trowa," he said. "All I have to do is get dressed, show up, give a speech, and make small talk. It shouldn't be that hard considering that this could have been an all-day event instead."

"Fine," he heard Trowa say although it was obvious that he was not convinced. "I'd thought you were just vain to request that they not touch your face, but I guess that you just didn't want to show up looking beat up."

"Exactly," Quatre responded, turning his neck so that he was facing Trowa. "I wouldn't want the press to have a grand time playing with the idea that Winner heir Quatre Winner was involved in a brawl or something to that extent, now would I?"

"Only if you want to promote that image," Trowa said, signaling for him to turn over. "What will it take for you to settle down?" he asked as he retrieved more materials for the first aid kit.

"Simple," Quatre answered wistfully. "The only way I'm going to stop doing all this is if I'm dead."

Serious and quite tired of the subject matter, Quatre smiled up at Trowa, waiting for him to patch up the rest of the wounds. At least, Trowa heard his point. There was no way of helping him, no matter how powerful anyone's good intentions were. He hoped Trowa would listen and stop trying to do good because he was already beyond redemption. Duo, at least, understood that much.


	15. Part Fifteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Fifteen)**

Perhaps flowers were in order. Quatre thought it absurd, but so far, flowers had been the only suggestion. Having went through his entire day contemplating what he should do to ask for Trowa's forgiveness, he didn't know what else to do. He'd finally decided on asking the female population of the entire building for advice he knew they would willingly provide for a helpless being like himself. The men, much to his disappointment, had done nothing but shrug, pointing to some random woman passing by. It irked Quatre that his workplace was gender divided, but at least he'd collected several, if not ludicrous suggestions.

"Why, what did you do?"

Quatre blinked, facing his (what seemed to be) hundredth woman advisor of the day. She was curious. They all seemed to be, but Quatre was loathed to tell anybody why he felt that he should ask for Trowa's forgiveness. His life was private and if word of his post-work activities got out, he didn't know what his company's shareholders would think. His eccentric lifestyle was for nobody but himself and maybe for his sisters.

"Uh, I cheated that person," Quatre answered after several moments of contemplation. He received a hard slap on his cheek in return for the answer.

"Shame on you," the woman said, immediately stomping her foot so that her pointy heel connected with his leather-clad foot. Quatre couldn't help but pull his foot up until he could grasp it with both hands. If only he could pick his words better, he wouldn't be in that sort of situation. Now that he thought about it, he'd made the same mistake with Trowa not too long ago. For someone who used his speaking skills for a living, he sure was lacking.

"God, just because you're gorgeous, doesn't mean you have the right to be a cheating bastard!" her tirade continued. She let out a few huffs of annoyance, arranging her hair in the process. Her face held an expression of anger for a while longer before she sighed quite loudly. She composed herself, looking back at Quatre, this time with a sincere look of forgiveness.

"But I guess you just want to make it up to her," the woman said more amicably. "At least you've got enough decency to say you're sorry. I suggest a large bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates," she said, nodding her head as if it was the most ingenious idea in the world.

"Thank you," Quatre answered while massaging his abused foot. "I'll take your word for it," he added before letting go of his foot and graciously thanking her with a kiss on the back of her hand. His current advisor could do nothing but blush as she left for a different direction.

"A guy that great can cheat on me anytime," he heard her whisper to a co-worker before he made an about face and made his way to his office, walking as dignified as he could under the circumstances.

Having made it all the way to the privacy of his office, Quatre immediately went for his chair before taking off his shoe. At least she didn't decide to sock him. The last two he'd asked advice from thought it necessary to not only slap him hard on the face, but to sock him in the gut as well. With the way things were going, he figured that he might as well stop taking Q30ZO and take their abuse instead. It had the same effect - it kept him up and about.

"I said cheated someone, not cheat _on_ someone," Quatre muttered under his breath, removing his socks so that his bare foot was in full view. The tiny heel that delivered the deadly blow had caused a bruise the size of a large coin to form. If it was tiny now, he was sure his entire foot would be swelling by the end of the day.

Knowing that there wasn't anything to do about it, including his just as severely bruised abdomen, Quatre put his socks and shoes back on before picking up a folder from the stack of others that were on his desk. He'd wasted enough time looking for advice that never seemed to fit just right. Why did everybody think that he cheated on his girlfriend?

He cheated Trowa, he was sure about that. He cheated the other because he had unwittingly involved Trowa in his affairs, affairs of which pulled a few other people to the brink of insanity. Still, it wasn't like Duo wasn't slightly insane already. He cheated Trowa out of a normal life and now the chemist thought that it was his responsibility to help. Now Trowa felt guilty because he handed Quatre over to the wrong person. Trowa shouldn't be feeling guilty. It was not his fault.

With his own guilt eating at him, Quatre let go of his pen and leaned back on his seat. He just couldn't work, not until he figured out what to do to atone for his wrongdoing. He doubted flowers and chocolates would sit well with Trowa because the guy would probably just look at him funny. The worst case scenario would be that Trowa would take the gesture the wrong way and assume that Quatre wanted a relationship with him and that was far worse than Trowa looking at him funny. It wasn't helping either that he was such a flirt, luring Trowa in like the really mean-spirited person he was.

"Ah, the guilt!" Quatre said out loud. The guilt was devouring him whole and he didn't know what to do about it. Why must it be that he was always the bad guy? Couldn't Trowa just acquaint himself with another guy who would make him happy and not cause him headaches?

Trapped with the feeling of blame nagging at him, Quatre knew that he had to man up and fix his little problem. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to get back to work. That in itself was sacrilegious. He picked up his phone, dialed a familiar number before being connected to Quinn laboratories. The most logical solution was to call Trowa and ask what he would want as consolation for the incident in the labs. There was no need to go at it the roundabout way because it would be a waste of time. Besides, the flowers option was very risky.

"Hello?" Trowa's voice answered at the other end of the line, having been connected through the building's main switchboard.

"Trowa," Quatre started, wishing that he had visuals. He wanted to at least see Trowa's face to gauge the other's responses. "What would you like me to do in return for making you worry too much?"

"Excuse me?" Trowa answered as if he didn't understand the question. Quatre had to wait a few moments while the silence continued on. He was patient around Trowa, that was for sure and he would wait as long as necessary.

"I'm sorry," he heard Trowa whisper into the phone.

"Look, I already told you. It wasn't your fault," Quatre said, running a hand through his hair. They'd already talked about it the night before and somehow, no amount of explanation would quell Trowa's anxiety. If he said that no, he was the one who should be sorry, the chances were that they would be apologizing to each other and nothing would be resolved.

"Why don't I come over to your place tonight?" Quatre suggested, hoping that he had picked something Trowa would not be adverse to. He was only hoping that his favorite chemist wasn't thinking with his lower extremities because that, Quatre would have none of. Duo made it clear that it was irresponsible and wholly inappropriate to sleep with Trowa again. They were not dating and Quatre had already made it clear that nothing would work out between them. They were merely acquaintances that got tangled up in the same problem - his problem.

"That would be nice," Trowa said obediently, sounding like he was following an order rather than responding to a suggestion.

"Look, Trowa, you don't have to say yes if you don't want to," Quatre said, frowning as he realized that he may have been a little too bossy around the other. He certainly didn't want Trowa to feel as though indulging him was a responsibility. "Trowa, why don't you tell me what you want instead?"

Trowa murmured something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like a 'you' before he cleared his throat.

"No, I mean, yes, I'd like it if you came over," Trowa answered.

"Are you sure? Because I don't want to impose on you," Quatre responded. He didn't know why he was vying for Trowa's approval. It just wasn't like him at all.

"I can't cook," Trowa said and that got a laugh out of Quatre, effectively disrupting his earlier line of thought.

"I figured as much," Quatre said, grinning because it was something he'd deduced a long time ago. "That should be the reason why you eat nothing but peanut butter sandwiches. Don't worry about it. I could bring take-out, but if you want me to cook for you then I'm not against it either."

"No, no. Take-out is good," Trowa responded. "I'm just a little nervous."

"About what?" Quatre inquired, raising an eyebrow. Was he really that intimidating? He'd read several articles about himself claiming the same. He wasn't trying to be intimidating. Maybe he just was.

"I'd like to be presentable at least," Trowa murmured into the line. Quatre imagined him chewing on his lip in that adorable way he couldn't get out of his head.

"For what? I'm just coming over Trowa. I'm not inspecting your place."

"Right. I'll see you later then," Trowa said too quickly before he hung up. Quatre hadn't even gotten the chance to tell him what time he would be coming over. Concluding that Trowa was scared of him, Quatre decided not to call again. Perhaps Trowa remembered that he didn't get out of work until late at night. He just hoped he didn't disrupt Trowa's bedtime.

oOo

Having left work earlier than he should have, Quatre exited the tall, looming building he liked to call his workplace. Although it was dark out, the parking lot still had cars scattered about, indicating that he was leaving much too early. Usually, he was the last one out of the building save for the security personnel.

"Mr. Winner?" he was greeted with surprise as he headed for his car. Apparently, it was a strange phenomenon when he left early. It had everyone growing suspicious. Marie, the kind-hearted old lady who was his secretary, informed him that there was a bet going around the office that he was in a relationship. They seemed to conclude that only reason why he would be leaving so early was because he was meeting with his significant other. Given the commotion he caused in the office that day while he was asking for advice, it was no doubt that those who put money on him being in a relationship won the pot.

"Randall," Quatre nodded in response, smiling his way before he stepped into his car. He himself didn't know why he felt the need to leave work early. Then, the logical part of his mind told him that Trowa might be asleep by the time he finished the workload on his desk and that the proper course of action was to leave the rest for tomorrow and make sure that he would not be a bother to his host. Satisfied that the answer sounded right, Quatre started the engine and tried to recall in his mind the directions to a Greek restaurant and then the directions to Trowa's apartment.

More than ten minutes later found Quatre knocking on a familiar door, holding a plastic bag of food in one hand. Only then did it occur to him that he might have come too early. It was seven o'clock sharp, just in time for dinner, but he usually showed up for visits no earlier than ten o'clock.

"Yes? Ah!" Trowa said much too horrifically for Quatre's comfort. "You're already here?" Trowa managed to squeak out very weakly.

Quatre nodded, finding no need to explain himself. He wasn't the person who hung up the phone after all. Why did it always become an issue when he was not doing his usual routine? Was it criminal to show up early?

"I wasn't ready," Trowa said, crestfallen as he reluctantly opened the door.

Quatre peered in first before walking inside, noting the state of half-order and half-disarray in Trowa's living room. After Trowa had closed the door behind him, Quatre faced his host.

"Trowa, you didn't have to clean up," Quatre said, noting the way Trowa fidgeted. Really, Trowa's fidgeting was completely unlike him from what Quatre had witnessed. Trowa had always been composed, if not drooling in that perverted way, during all the times he had been with the other.

"But I wanted to," Trowa said before taking the plastic bag off Quatre's hand. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us some plates."

Finding it improper to sit down when his host was not in sight, Quatre chose to stand instead, deciding to start small talk.

"I hope you don't mind Greek," Quatre started, finding himself inching toward a random stack of books. His curiosity was urging him to go ahead and check the titles. He hoped it wasn't rude.

"I've never tried it before," Trowa answered from the kitchen. The sound of plates scraping against kitchen tiles could be heard. "Do you mind me asking you questions before dinner? I know it's rude, but I missed asking you yesterday."

"Anything for you, Trowa," Quatre answered absently as he picked up a rather thick book. The contents to him were indecipherable, having several formulas and symbols he couldn't identify. He flipped through the book, noticing that his host had yet to ask the question. After waiting long enough, Quatre looked up from the book. "Trowa?" he said.

Trowa was looking at him with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. The plates of food he had in his hands were steady as he held them. Time seemed to pass by too slowly as Trowa stared at him.

"Did I forget to wear pants?" Quatre said, looking down just to make sure that he didn't forget. There must have been something wrong with him if Trowa was looking at him in that way. "Do you want me to leave?" he tried again.

"No, no," Trowa said, quickly putting down the plates before pulling him by the arm and depositing him in the seat next to the dining table. "I was just distracted by something you said," he admitted, grabbing the plates and shoving one in Quatre's hand. He then retrieved two glasses filled with water from the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind. I'm not really good at fixing things up."

Quatre blinked after being shoved, which normally would earn any other person a punch in the gut for touching him. He stared at the table, then only noticing the setting. It was simple and homey, but it was pleasing to the eye. The napkins were arranged with care as were the utensils that were positioned eerily straight. There were two candles positioned opposite a vase of flowers that contrasted with the dark tablecloth over the small, rounded table. Quatre didn't doubt that if Trowa were trying to woo someone, he would most certainly win them over just by the sight of his presentation.

"Wow, you didn't have to go through the trouble," Quatre said, facing Trowa who looked to be hyperventilating. "Really Trowa, this looks better than a five star restaurant."

"I'm glad you like it," Trowa said before taking a seat as well. What followed was fifteen minutes of silence as they ate. Quatre was beginning to think that there was something wrong with him with the way Trowa was acting. His companion for the night seemed to be more agitated than usual and kept to himself mostly. It was with great delight that Quatre finished his last bite of food, because then at least he could probably coax Trowa out of the formality he had put them into.

After taking care of the dishes and cleaning up after themselves, Trowa lead him to the living room. Quatre did not dare speak, worried that he had done something to cause Trowa's unnatural behavior.

"I'm sorry. I was just nervous," Trowa started, sitting opposite Quatre. "I just never had you around here before."

Quatre found it necessary not to mention that he'd been there twice before - once when he'd broken in and then when he was picking Trowa up for dinner.

"That's alright," Quatre said, leaning back on the couch to make himself comfortable. It was only then that he removed his suit jacket and placed it over the arm of the couch. The suffocating tie around his neck, he could deal with. "You wanted to ask something earlier?"

"Uh, yes, about Dr. Quinn," Trowa said, all of a sudden going back to his usual self, slumping a little as he buried himself in the couch. He lifted his legs and crossed them for a more comfortable sitting position. "He didn't help you, did he?"

"Yes and no," Quatre answered, placing his hands in his lap as a force of habit. "He did knock me out enough for a good nap, but just in case you were wondering - no, I'm not going to stop stealing Q30ZO from those labs. I still need it."

Trowa frowned but did not protest.

"I handed you over to the bad guy, didn't I?" Trowa said next.

"Trowa, the old man might be a psychotic creep, but he was still a friend of my father's. You didn't hand me over to the bad guy. You just handed me over to the wrong person. Believe it or not, I consider the guy to be family."

"But he..."

"I suppose Duo told you as much," Quatre interrupted. "While he's running his little experiment, I just have to keep coming back for more. I don't think I really mind as much as I used to. It's the way things are between us and as long as he keeps that place running, my sisters will be well."

"Then who would be the right person to hand you over to?" Trowa said, sounding very frustrated as he ran a hand through his hair. Brown strands were forced up to reveal the usually hidden green eye, before those same strands came back down with a gentle flop. "Who would be the right person for you?" Trowa said again without looking at him.

Quatre was surprised when his mouth moved out of its own volition, soundlessly forming the word 'you'. That was when he realized that he was going crazy. He stood up, imagining several tiny Duos hammering his head in dismay. He had to get out of there before he completely lost it.


	16. Part Sixteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Sixteen)**

When Duo came barging into his office door at seven-thirty that evening, he expected dinner. Instead, he found a large apple thrown his way while his guest seated himself rather comfortably on one of the couches positioned on the far corner of the room. He'd yet to get himself some dinner and somehow, he knew just one apple (albeit it being his favorite fruit) was not going to satiate his hunger.

"What, you expected a meal?"

"Yes Duo, I did," Quatre said, shoving the current file he had on hand to make room for what was going to be his final meal of the day. He rarely skipped meals, but with the way he'd been concentrating on other issues but work lately, he found himself doing so more often. It really wasn't healthy and was surely going to affect him in the long run.

"If you want dinner, then leave that alone and we'll go grab some right now."

Duo was threatening him, he was sure, although the threat was rather weak. Quatre sat back. Was it going to be work or food? He did have to finish reading quite a few files since he'd purposely left work early a few times to meet with Trowa. Lost time always had to be paid for.

"No thank you," Quatre said, biting down on his dinner and relaxing further into his seat. "You could have at least brought me a bottle of water to go along with this."

"Geez Quatre," Duo said with exasperation. He raised both arms to the air before letting them fall listlessly down his sides. "I really wanted you to leave that seat for a few minutes. Would it kill you to walk across the street and eat properly?"

"No time, too many stuff to read," Quatre responded between chews. He pointed at the stack he imagined to be tipping over but really wasn't. It only happened in cartoons, but that didn't mean that he didn't see it that way. If his eyes could, they would probably have already dropped out of its sockets.

"What happened? You let the work pile up?" Duo said with a snort, obviously disbelieving his own remark.

"Sure did," Quatre said, continuing to devour his apple.

Duo could only look at him with doubt.

"You're lying to me, aren't you? Leaving work early? That's entirely impossible. It's like a cow jumping over the moon."

"Well, you apparently can't underestimate a cow," Quatre said, with one more swallow finishing his fruit in record time. Only the core was left when he dropped it into a nearby trash bin. "I had other preoccupations," he added, not divulging what or who that preoccupation was.

"It's Trowa, isn't it?" But Duo picked up on it anyway.

There was no other reason why Quatre had requested that Duo visit him that evening. He was hoping for some hand-delivered dinner to go along with their discussion, but Duo had other ideas it seemed. That left him with an apple for dinner and the audience of a friend who treated the Trowa topic with contempt.

"What, he sweet-talked you and now you want him to fuck you and give you children? Now you're all confused and you want me to tell you that it's ok to run off with him and forget about everything else."

Quatre sighed, getting up from his seat. He walked toward the door, pausing before he made it all the way out. Some things were difficult enough already without Duo adding in his sardonic take of what Quatre wanted to discuss.

"I'm getting myself a bottle of water and when I come back, I expect less hostility and a bit more open-mindedness about the issue," he said. It was an order if he ever gave one. Duo's antagonism of Trowa had to be controlled if they were going to talk properly. He at least hoped for unprejudiced advice. That, it seemed, was a long shot, but he was willing to take what he could get.

Several thoughts along those lines continued to organize themselves around his head that by the time he entered his office, he had considered a plan of action that would force his companion to take things less personally. The vending machine was not given more attention than the button pushing that was required to attain his drink.

"I ordered you dinner, Quat," Duo greeted when he entered, lazily swinging the grizzly bear attached to his cell phone. "I know you don't like Chinese that much, but it's the closest one around that delivers."

With the news of food, Quatre's mind suddenly forgot its former calculations and instead decided to abandon the plan in lieu of anticipations of a real meal. Suddenly, images of greasy pork chops, noodles, and deep fried orange chicken filled his head. Never mind that he abstained from unhealthy food. Finally, he was going to eat.

"You get cranky when you're hungry," Duo chuckled, earning him a frown. "What? Tell me it isn't true," he dared.

Silent because he knew it to be true, Quatre sat himself back down and nursed his bottle of water. He supposed putting off work for the next few minutes wouldn't hurt. He'd wasted so much time already. Extra hours would just have to be put in during the coming week. At least being busy kept his mind off Trowa long enough for him to forget his current woes.

"He gave you away," Duo said all of a sudden, his cheerful tone giving way to smugness. Duo, it seemed, knew that he was thinking about Trowa. He was immediately aware of what Duo was implying. Surely the first issue at hand would be the fact that Trowa was the reason why he was caught in the act at Quinn labs a few days ago.

"You did too," Quatre said in return, finding it improper to make Trowa sound like the bad guy when he was only doing what he thought was right. Pointing out that Duo had also done so years before made sure to ease the blame on the chemist.

Quatre remembered that it was a number of years ago when Duo had entreated old Quinn's help to get Quatre to kick his bad habit. Of course, it hadn't been easy for Duo back then. He had a hand full of blonde kicking and screaming and effectively turning his body into a punching bag. Quatre was furious then and that meant Duo ending up unconscious in a hospital somewhere.

"I know and that was a bad idea," Duo said, absently rubbing his stomach where the final, most violent blow had hit. Quatre had apologized for it several times before and both had agreed to forget about it. That was, until Trowa showed up unharmed.

"You can't blame Trowa for what he did," Quatre said, purposely sticking up for Trowa for what he knew would be Duo's finger pointing.

"Sure, he made the mistake I did, but I warned him beforehand and that should have been enough," Duo said in reply, looking at Quatre as if he was accusing the other of taking sides because as it was, Quatre really was defending Trowa far too much.

"I've told you before," Duo continued. Quatre felt as if he was being assessed without mercy. Some looks Duo gave him made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. "You have to stop luring them in. You're like a damn siren. Stop flirting with him Quatre. You'll do nothing but turn him into a poor fool in need of a shrink."

The reality check had been far too harsh, but Quatre knew it was necessary. There would have been no other reason to seek Duo out. Duo gave it to him hard and true. His hand unconsciously fisted at his side. Why didn't he want to stop? Why did he feel like luring Trowa in anyway despite the consequences?

"That's it. End of story. You're old enough to know better," Duo said quickly before Quatre had time to question himself any further. "So, did they beat you up real good?"

Just as easily, Duo managed to change the subject. Quatre supposed that his companion had sensed his internal strife. He was unwilling to forget about it, but the look Duo was giving him forced him to drop it before it got sour.

"Yeah, I've got a large cut that keeps on bleeding into my shirt," Quatre responded, pushing his back onto the cushions of his chair just to see how much it would sting. It was a mistake because the wound burned more than it stung. The feeling of several tiny needles assaulted his back.

"What happened to the no weapons policy? Should I assume that somebody had really long fingernails?"

"They got creative," Quatre answered dismissively, not going into further detail. He chose instead to take a sip from his bottled water.

"Was it a mistake to tell Trowa about you?" Duo asked next. Quatre was sure all the earlier questions were leading up to this one.

"No," Quatre said in reply. "I trust that you know what you're doing."

Still, he couldn't understand why Duo told Trowa as much as he did when he didn't want the other involved in the first place. The whole deal with Dr. Quinn and his sisters made certain that Trowa would involve himself with or without Quatre's permission.

"You can't get over him, can you?"

Quatre frowned, realizing that he did not understand what Duo had meant by the question. There was no reason to get over Trowa when there was nothing there to begin with. He felt like there was something going on that he wasn't aware of. It confused him and frustrated him because he usually knew what was wrong with him before anybody else did. He always dealt with his problems quickly and efficiently before they got out of hand. The problem was that he couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with him this time around.

"There's nothing to get over," Quatre said, trying to asses his situation, trying to find out what was wrong with the picture. "I just keep on messing things up with Trowa and that involves apologizing several times. I don't see why I need to get over him."

"You want to know why I told him?"

"No. You can keep it to yourself."

"I'll tell you anyway."

Quatre made no move to stop him. If Duo was eager then there was no reason to prevent him from trying to impart his wisdom, or at least the information Quatre had no need for.

"Trowa and I, we're the same to some degree," Duo admitted. "We're obsessed. I know what it's like to be groping for answers that are hard to find. I know what it's like to try to understand something that doesn't make sense. The fact that you're allowing yourself to be a guinea pig is beyond comprehension. It's about time you leave those witches to rot. They could work for themselves if they tried hard enough."

"Duo, stop trying to put the blame on my sisters," Quatre sighed. When it came to his sisters, Duo's passionate dislike exceeded his resentment of Trowa.

"Quat, you know I hate those bitches."

"I hope you didn't influence Trowa into thinking the way you do about them. He hasn't even met them."

"For his own safety and self-worth, I sure hope he doesn't."

"Duo," Quatre warned. "I've already told you I don't appreciate the name-calling and bad-mouthing."

If there was ever anything that could get his blood rising, it was the mention of his sisters in a bad light. They were his family, the only reason why he hadn't ditched his job and disappeared to some strange, distant island somewhere where he could get himself a proper tan.

"Ok, ok," Duo said finally, holding his hands up in defeat. "You're getting touchy and emotional. It's freaking me out."

Duo muttered something about Trowa being some kind of factor in the attitude, but chose not to voice out his opinions. Quatre heard them anyway. The mention of the name, unfortunately, had him clutching at his head. He had to get rid of his Trowa related stress before it got out of hand. Seeing Trowa the day before didn't help any. In fact, it made his inner turmoil worse. He not only felt extremely guilty, he was baffled as well. He was too lenient when it came to the guy, allowing Trowa to explore him in a way no one ever had and like it or not, he was breaking Quatre apart.

Quatre's confusion was too overwhelming that he unconsciously grabbed a few random pens from his drawer, breaking them one by one like toothpicks. It managed to ease his anxiety a little.

"Holy hell," Duo exclaimed while he continued to break the pens. "Those are Montblancs. There's a cheaper way to deal with stress, you know." (1)

Quatre could only look down at his hands filled with inky black and at the remains of his far too extravagant writing instruments. The intricate carvings on platinum merely stared back at him. He had to wonder why he owned them in the first place when he could have gotten himself a few worth a couple of pennies at the local store. He scoffed at himself. Evidence of his unnecessary expenditure was all over his hands. There was yet another cause of his growing guilt. It was eating him alive and turning him into an incompetent.

"Someone else could have made better use of these," he grumbled before dropping his head on the cleanest portion of his arm he could find. His hands remained extended before him to prevent the ink from getting on his face.

Not long after, he felt his hands being cleaned with a wet towel. Duo's grim expression stared down at him from where he stood.

"I need a good ass-kicking," Quatre said, staring up at the ceiling. He could only count stare at the design pattern up there as Duo continued to clean his mess.

"Ass-pounding you mean," Duo chuckled, obviously brazen with his choice of words. Anybody else could have blushed, but Quatre was used to it.

"Same difference," he said.

Quatre grabbed the towel off Duo and finished rubbing the ink off his hands. He hoped it wouldn't stain his skin although he couldn't say the same for his ruined shirt. No amount of washing would get it clean now.

"I'm going to need Bjorn," Quatre said, discarding the inky towel in the trash before heading for the small dress closet hidden behind the bookshelves. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the couch just behind him before grabbing the first shirt he could find.

"I think you've done enough damage to yourself already," Duo murmured. Quatre felt the stare being directed at his back where Trowa's earlier stitching was coming off. It was going to be a pain stitching it up again when he got home later that night what with the wound being behind him and his arms being too short to reach that far. That was what extension instruments were for.

"Stop staring," Quatre commanded before shrugging on a new shirt which Duo pointed out didn't match the rest of his outfit. Quatre did nothing to acknowledge the suggestion, buttoning up the shirt anyway. Most people knew better than to tell him what to put on because he didn't care. He would usually run home to his clothes randomizer for a change of clothes, but it was too late in the night to worry about matching, much less looking presentable.

"I need his services. Can you get him for me or not?" Quatre said. He was in no mood for any more questioning and made it clear by putting on his formal face, the same he used everyday when dealing with clientele.

"Of course," Duo said with a roll of his eyes. He watched as Quatre stared at the now brown stains on his hands. Although most of the ink had been rubbed off, there were still the few blots that managed to seep into his skin. "I don't exactly recommend your methods of stress-relief," Duo continued.

"It was your suggestion," Quatre reminded him.

"Heck, but that doesn't mean I like it. At least it's better than you causing injury upon yourself. You're too crazy for anyone sane."

Quatre did not respond, choosing instead to return to his seat and wipe of the rest of the ink off his tabletop. The dark liquid managed to smear the mahogany wood, ruining it entirely. Quatre sighed, discarding the pens. He really should think twice before doing anything he would later regret and he wasn't even talking about the pens.

Deep in thought, he didn't even notice when their delivery had arrived. He only realized that his dinner was ready when Duo broke off a pair of chopsticks, announcing the arrival of their food.

"Are you going to dig in or do I have to deliver the food to your table?" Duo said much too cheerfully as he pointed to the boxes of Chinese food ready for consumption. "You better start eating it before it gets cold."

Resigned to feeling infuriatingly incompetent for the rest of the night, Quatre joined Duo in the couches and grabbed the first random box he could get his hands on. Oh, he was hungry alright and he didn't forget about that little detail despite his earlier dramatics. He'd managed to open up the box and scoop food into his chopsticks before he realized that it was plain rice.

"Here," Duo said, shoving another box in his direction. "They're all greasy, but at least these salt and pepper pork chops are good."

Quatre took the offered food gratefully before starting to eat. He paid no heed to Duo who had his shoes off and his legs crossed beneath him. The position looked comfortable, but Quatre was not about to follow the lead. Instead, he ate quietly, staring off into some remote corner of the room while he chewed.

"You really need a TV in here," Duo sad, noisily slurping his noodles. He then paused and then blinked before turning to face Quatre. "Which reminds me, I wonder how Wufei's doing," he said.

Quatre merely shrugged.

"With the rate I'm going, he's probably already as messed up as you are," he said before resuming his silence.

oOo

(1) Some Montblancs are retailed up to $900 a piece. O.O


	17. Part Seventeen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Seventeen)**

Being bold was not in him. Try asking his sister. He was as passive as they came and as boring as he let himself out to be. He did nothing but read, work, and perform the most basic bodily functions day by day. He didn't go out for drinks nor did he speak unless spoken to. All he'd ever done since completing graduate school was hide inside his apartment when anyone showed any interest in socializing with him. In short, Trowa Barton was not only a nerd; he was also a pathetic loner.

"Are you taking care of yourself?"

"Yes, Catherine, I am. I'm a grown man."

"So how is it progressing with the guy you were on the paper with? His name was Quatre, right?"

However, there always seems to be that one catastrophic moment in a person's life that can change everything. Just ask the near fanatics recounting the cataclysmic change in their lives in one religious gathering or another. A person was in a car accident and then bam! All of a sudden, they offer all their belongings to charity and decide to become a monk having spent a few seconds in the supposed afterlife. Trowa had always been a skeptic about such stories, but there had to be a reason why it came to mind in the middle of a phone conversation with his sister, just after she mentioned Quatre's name.

"I don't know how he's been. I haven't since him since last Tuesday."

The simple truth, now that Trowa thought about it, was that he did in fact change. Over the course of time he'd been acquainted with Quatre, he'd become a different person. He was not just a nerd or a loner.

"I've tried to follow him around, but he always gets away."

Trowa Barton was now a stalker, a very obsessed stalker. He was no ordinary stalker because as strange as it was, Trowa was stalking a criminal. Add that to the fact that he was compulsively seeking someone out despite normally avoiding any form of social contact.

"Well, have you told him that you're interested in him?" Catherine's voice filtered through the phone line. She sounded worried and a little upset. She was always too protective of him. He supposed that his social ineptness had something to do with that.

"Yes, Cathy, I told him I was interested during my drunken haze. He'd already told me, quite clearly might I add, that we can't get involved."

"So what's stopping you?"

"He can't stay put," Trowa replied, frustrated as he weaved a hand through his hair. The mice caged in front of him seemed to sense his discomfort as they ran around all over each other in frenzied panic. Trowa boldly reached his hand in to pick up the perpetrator who had started the commotion. With the extraction of the deviant mouse, all the other creatures seemed to calm down a bit.

"Aha! You do like the guy after all," Catherine said. She sounded giddy with pride. "Wait 'til the rest of the troupe hears about this. I'm going to be collecting hard cash by the end of today."

"Cathy!" Trowa warned, almost crushing the poor mouse that was struggling in his hand. The creature bit his fingers a few times before Trowa finally deposited it into a separate cage.

"What? The guy's cute, as cute as someone could look in a picture. You honestly thought I would interpret that tabloid news as false misrepresentation? I don't care if you were slightly drunk. You were practically sucking the air out of him."

Trowa swiveled in his seat, facing away from the lab desk as he continued to hold the receiver next to his ear.

"I'm at work and I think discussing something like this here would be inappropriate," he said, whispering into the receiver as if his mice could understand what he was saying.

"And _you're_ not supposed to be on the phone at work either, so there," Catherine responded, always the smart mouth.

"Too bad then. I'm going to have to hang up now," Trowa responded before doing so. After all these years, he knew just how to handle endless conversations with his sister.

Satisfied and nearly smirking at the image of Catherine in shock, Trowa turned back to his desk, intending to finish his work. Only, he didn't expect to find three vials just recently filled half-empty. He frowned. Somebody had been in there.

"Quatre?" he asked aloud although the likelihood of the thief still being in the scene of the crime was not likely. He'd already gotten what he was looking for. "Are you still here?" he asked anyway.

When he received nothing in response, Trowa sighed, looking at the white lab mice. It seemed that Quatre was too busy to come and visit him, not that the thief come corporate man had any time to waste on him. As it was, he was just another pawn providing his services.

"I should really be in a stable relationship with someone by now," Trowa breathed into the cages like a woebegone woman in her mid-forties looking for love. He couldn't help it. The circumstances he found himself facing in the last few weeks made him realize that he was lonely and that he finally needed a real, full-fledged relationship. The feeling of being with someone was just too good to ignore any longer.

He sighed again, feeling himself far too dramatic for his own good. Staring at the far corner of the cage where two mice were coupling had made him more depressed than horny. Really, there had to be something wrong with him. He was sulking as he placed his cheek heavily down on an upturned hand so that it looked deformed and chubby. That was when he heard movement above him.

"Quatre?" he tried again. The movement was quick but detectable with the way he was straining his ears. He only realized that he was alone once again when the sound faded and he was left with nothing but the silence of the lab room. The clock nearby ticked rhythmically with the passage of time. Then, it hit him.

Before any more work was accomplished in the stale confines of the lab, Trowa rushed out, white lab coat billowing in the air as he headed for Duo's workstation. It was about time he did something more drastic than useless stalking. Now that he thought about it, trying to outsmart a criminal needed work if he wanted to catch his prey. If Quatre hid really well, then he would seek him out just as hard.

"Where's Quatre?" Trowa demanded not even before he came face to face with the criminal's associate. Duo, who had been unusually concentrated on his work, looked up from the computer screen with large, questioning eyes. He almost looked innocent... almost.

"What?" Duo reacted. His surprise was clearly evident with the way he suddenly jerked backwards.

"Where is he, Duo?" Trowa demanded again, all of a sudden being brazen enough to demand from Duo who was usually more intimidating than him.

"Again, the question is 'what?'" Duo clarified, not willing to give out information just yet. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, signaling Trowa to the fact that he was taking a defensive position.

"I've been to his house everyday for the past week and he's never home," Trowa explained, feeling himself deflate a little as he stared at Duo's much more confident stare. He really did have to assert himself more. It seemed that his cold indifference and strict demeanor did not work with this certain individual.

"What?" Duo said again. For a moment, Trowa thought that it was all he was capable of saying. "How the hell could you get up that hill? You don't even drive. Do you have the security codes? Did you jog through that jungle, up that hill? Are you insane? Not even an athlete could make it all the way to his front door without passing out."

"I, uh," Trowa said, not sure whether he should tell Duo about the secret passageway or not. All of a sudden, he found that he was no longer in any position to make demands because he was the keeper of a forbidden secret. Any more questioning and he would be found out.

"Wait," Duo said, holding his hands up. "Never mind. I don't want to know," he continued before muttering a line of phrases along the lines of Trowa being slightly insane and possessing the lungs of five men.

"Where is he?" Trowa asked again, this time with less conviction. If there was anyone who would know, then it would be Duo. It was best not to anger the gatekeeper.

"Look, Tro, you really don't want to know," Duo answered, leaning back on his chair and looking up at him. "I don't want you traumatized or anything."

"Why can't you just tell me?" Trowa replied. His defeat was turning into desperation. He needed to know where Quatre was. He just had to see him. It had been far too long. Quatre was avoiding him and he knew it. Just because Quatre didn't want to see him didn't mean that he couldn't forcefully set up a meeting. He was more than determined to do so.

"Tro, it's going to freak you out," Duo said. He sounded earnest as he continued to dissuade Trowa.

"I've sewn the skin off his back together while the blood spurted all over his bed. That cut was a foot long. He was under no anesthetic. What could possibly 'freak' me out any further?"

"Oh trust me, a guy like you isn't going to understand what's going on," Duo answered him a little less seriously than he answered all previous questions. He even smirked as he said it. The gesture did well to infuriate Trowa.

"As much as I hate to break it to you, he doesn't belong to you," Trowa growled. That was it. It was the final straw and he was not going to stand by and take Duo's abuse any further.

To his surprise, Duo took no offense to his attempt at provocation. He merely grabbed his braid and curled the end of his hair around a finger.

"He sure acts like it though," Duo said smugly, before holding a hand up in surrender.

Trowa almost felt like delivering a good, well-deserved punch down Duo's face. Of course, the thought of pulling that hair was tempting, but that would just bring him down to school-girl level.

"Look," Duo continued more seriously. "First you have to know what you're getting yourself into."

Trowa's eyes narrowed although he made no move to protest.

"Tell me, what are the two most intense sensations a person could possibly feel? I'm talking physical here, not emotional."

"What?"

This time, Trowa was confused.

"Just answer the question."

Trowa shrugged.

"Fine, since I have to do all the work around here," Duo muttered, rolling his eyes in the process. He dragged his chair forward until he was close enough to Trowa and then pinched hard.

"Ow! What the..." Trowa reacted, stopping himself from saying any more. It was a clue. He was smart enough to guess that. "Pain?" he asked uncertainly after making sure that his answer was sound.

"Bingo! You really are a smart guy," Duo said far too enthusiastically. "You better guess the second one because I'm not touching you."

Trowa hated the game, so he did what any annoyed person would. He just stood there and stared at Duo, allowing his eyes to bore into the other. It worked very well with random strangers who annoyed him, so he hoped that it would work with Duo as well.

"Alright, alright," Duo said after giving in to a full five seconds of staring. "Pleasure, Trowa, the answer is pleasure. An orgasm if you want to get any more specific. Pain and pleasure are two of the most intense sensations a person could feel. Well, those and hunger but that one's out of context."

Trowa tapped his foot on the ground, waiting for further explanation. Duo was fun to be around but his rambling got annoying once in a while, especially when Trowa wanted answers.

"You're already aware that he's taking high-end stimulants to keep himself from going into paralysis," Duo said, having gotten Trowa's hint to continue. "The guy's scared that he'd going to stop moving. How else could he possibly stop that from happening, Q30ZO aside?"

"I don't know," Trowa gritted out. He'd been impatient since the discussion started.

"And that's what you're going to find out," Duo said, quickly picking up a piece of paper and scribbling an address down on it. He then handed it to Trowa before wishing him good luck.

"Why do I need good luck?" Trowa dared to ask as he looked suspiciously down at Duo.

"Buddy, if you see a hulk of a man... His name is Bjorn by the way; Swedish for bear. Anyway, if you see that Goliath, bear-sized dude doing some very mean, x-rated things to Blondie then don't come running to me. You've been warned."

Before Trowa could even ask for an early leave, he was already out the door, clutching the piece of paper Duo had given him in a fisted hand.

oOo

It had taken nearly two hours for Trowa to arrive at the address Duo had given him before realizing that Quatre was still at work. It had taken another hour to get back to his own work, apologize for his leaving, and continue with the newest formula he'd been working on. It took another two hours for his day to finally end and another five for Quatre's to end. By the time Trowa was stalking around the hotel he'd been to earlier, it was already well past midnight. Trowa had checked and Quatre wasn't home, so the only logical place where Quatre would end up in was the address Duo had given him. He had yet to see Quatre enter the building and suspected that the man had already entered while he'd been running around town.

Trowa looked down at the piece of paper held in his hand. After double checking the address, he confirmed that he was at the right hotel. He had no keys to Quatre's room, but supposed that the room number was good enough. He would knock, Quatre would open it, and all would be well, so he did.

Trowa nearly shrieked in a very unmanly way when he was greeted at the door by a very large, very naked man who looked to be a body-builder ingesting too many protein drinks. Long, silky, blonde hair cascaded down very broad shoulders as the man looked down at him in question. He looked like a model for the cover of those romance novels Catherine liked reading.

"Yes?" he asked, unashamed of the fact that his rather gigantic privates were being so openly displayed to Trowa and to anyone who passed by. His shoulders were large enough to block the entire door so that Trowa could not see what was happening inside.

"Quatre," Trowa said, feeling his mouth run dry. Really, he was just about ready to throw up. In fact, he thought he tasted some part of that peanut butter sandwich he had for lunch come halfway out his esophagus. It was really sour.

"Quatre?" the stranger repeated in a thick accent Trowa identified as common in those strange movies featuring equally large men. It may have been those Conan-type movies. "Quatre, you have a visitor," the man (Bjorn, Trowa reminded himself) turned so that a full view of his behind was exposed. At least it was a little less explicit than his naked front.

"Who is it?"

Trowa froze when he heard the familiar voice. He decided to work his way around the naked man and snuck a peek into the room. He wilted when he saw Quatre.

"Trowa?" Quatre asked, having spied him looking like an insect next to the muscular man. "What are you doing here?" He sounded more concerned than outraged. Bjorn seemed to get the message as he began to dress, allowing Trowa to enter.

The room smelled of coppery blood and sex, so much that Trowa wanted to retrieve Quatre from the bed and take him home. The object of his secret desire had his arms crossed while sighing in defeat. His chest, or what was viewable of his chest, was filled with what looked like puncture wounds and bruises. In fact, his entire body looked like it had fallen down a high cliff before being stepped on by stampeding elephants. Trowa could only stare as Quatre wrapped a blanket around himself and guided him to a nearby couch. He said something to the now dressed hulking man with a suitcase of suspicious objects before he lead him out the door. After that had been taken care of, Quatre turned to face him.

"I'm killing Duo for this," Quatre said before walking closer to him. A hand was still holding on securely to the blanket that covered him. Quatre's other hand reached out to Trowa's quickly paling face, slapping gently to wake him up from his stupor.

"Why do you like getting hurt?" Trowa asked dumbly as he stared off into the wall, refusing to meet Quatre's face or any part of him.

He felt movement coming from the other occupant of the room, forcing him to look toward the direction of the movement. Quatre had evaded his question and instead called room service for sheet changing and a few drinks. When he'd finished calling room service, he approached Trowa one more time, putting himself at eye level with the still shocked chemist.

"Trowa," he said carefully. A frown was forming on his full, pink lips. It was all Trowa could focus on. "I'm going to take a shower then we could talk afterwards, alright?" he said, sweeping Trowa's hair off his face. With one last look of concern sent his way, Quatre stepped into the bathroom before closing the door behind him.


	18. Part Eighteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Eighteen)**

Trowa blinked when a first aid kit was thrust into his hands. He'd long since gotten over his initial shock of finding Quatre in such an injured state and had even helped the room service lady change the beddings. Within those few minutes, Trowa had decided to let the matter go and question Duo about it instead. The reason why he went looking for Quatre was to spend time with the other, not accuse him of making poor choices when it came to his well-being. True, as a chemist, he had authority over issues that involved the harmful substance Quatre was ingesting, but on matters rather personal, he'd rather not pry.

"Patch me up?" Quatre said. He stood before the bed Trowa was seated at. He looked more appropriate than he did only minutes ago but was still just as wounded. The angry marks on his skin did not disappear. If anything, the redness of his skin from what he presumed to be a hot shower accentuated each and every point of damage. A long scratch was partially visible from his side, disappearing into the towel that was wrapped around his waist.

"Ah, sure. I guess I should do your back first," Trowa said, watching as Quatre climbed up the bed looking like a child ready for his bedtime story. Forgotten was the fact that he was barely dressed and that he was still dripping from the shower he just took.

Once Quatre had settled down on his stomach, Trowa proceeded to survey the extent of his injuries. Upon further inspection, none of them looked fatal and most of the wounds were superficial. In fact, none of them were deep enough to cause any trouble. It made Trowa wonder if the hulk of a man who had been with Quatre was some sort of professional.

"We're starting to meet under these strange circumstances, aren't we?" Quatre thought out loud, earning Trowa's full attention.

Dabbing some iodine into a cotton ball, Trowa contemplated Quatre's question.

"It's a bad sign," he said before swiping the medicated cotton ball against the expanse of Quatre's back. He worked diligently, making sure not to miss anything. The bottle of iodine would surely be empty by the time they finished.

"Not necessarily," Quatre murmured before turning his head so that he was facing Trowa instead of smothering himself on the pillow. "I wasn't expecting you," he said, moving his arms under the pillow to cradle his head.

"I wasn't expecting _that_ either," Trowa replied. He was trying his best not to start any sort of conversation that would make either of them uncomfortable. Perhaps Quatre was willing to be more open about it, but Trowa was not about to loose his composure if Quatre wanted to bring up the topic of the Swedish man.

Trowa rummaged through the first aid kit, finding several sized band-aids, a pair of scissors, some medical tape, a few bandages, and a cold pack before settling his hands on the last item anyone else would have thought was necessary. Trowa hesitated before he picked up the cold pack, triggered the cooling device, and put it directly on top of Quatre's towel covered behind.

"Trowa, my ass is fine," Quatre said after having been disturbed from his semi-trance. Even with a towel barrier, Trowa supposed that the coldness of the pack was still seeping through.

"I know it is," Trowa answered absently, trying to balance the ice pack when Quatre tried to wriggle out of it. It never occurred to him that he'd interpreted the statement the wrong way.

"Are you serious?" Quatre said all of a sudden before laughing uncontrollably. The ice pack finally gave way to the movement and slid down his back. Trowa frowned as he picked it up and placed it back where he intended it to be. The Bjorn guy was huge. Trowa was witness to it. He had no doubt Quatre was sore after being subjected to something that scary.

"I'm just trying to..." Trowa said while concentrating on getting the ice pack back on Quatre. He sounded frustrated but determined as he licked his lips in utmost concentration.

"Trowa, I'm flattered that you think my ass is fine, but I was referring to the fact that my ass doesn't need any tending to."

"I don't think so," Trowa answered. Rather sick, graphic images of Bjorn's bits and pieces came to mind. He was feeling only the tips of his ears burn but ignored it in favor of attending to his current task. At the moment, Quatre's ass was top priority.

Quatre sighed, grabbing the cold pack from his behind before pulling the towel out. Trowa's eyes grew wide with surprise when his patient's entire back came into full view, including the previously discussed rear end.

"See, what did I tell you?" Quatre said, throwing the towel into Trowa's direction so that his staring session was interrupted.

"It's fine," Trowa whispered although which meaning of the word it was, he couldn't tell. His mind was currently preoccupied with other, more inappropriate images. He not only stared; he stared long and hard.

"Hey! That's enough of a private viewing for you," Quatre said, grabbing the discarded towel and draping it across his mid-section. "Now doctor, it's time for you to get back to work."

Trowa nodded dumbly, feeling both of his ears radiate with enough heat to melt ice. He resumed his task of dabbing iodine on Quatre's back but not before slapping the cold pack against one burning ear after the other. If it didn't take away the heat from his ears then it would at least distract him from thinking unclean thoughts about his nearly naked companion.

"Umm, Duo tells me you have 29 sisters," he started as conversation. Pure thoughts weren't easy to come by even with the freezing cold pack as a distraction.

"He's right about that," Quatre said, looking up at him curiously while trying to stay still. "Any questions about that?"

Trowa supposed that having 29 sisters guaranteed that several questions and comments of impossibilities would follow. After all, how often was it that one was a sibling of 29 others? He knew how the number 29 was produced through Duo's explanation, so he chose to ask another question instead.

"How do you keep track of them? Do they go by numbers?" Trowa said, remembering the code names on the bottles he'd been working on. With that many people to remember, there was surely some sort of coding involved.

"Of course not," Quatre answered, sounding far too displeased about a very credible assumption. He looked insulted even. "I know them all by name, including their husbands, boyfriends, children, and exes. I know what they hate and what they love."

Trowa paused mid-swipe. He found it hard to believe that anyone in their right mind could possibly remember all that information while working himself to the grave. Surely Quatre wasn't so dedicated to his familial responsibilities that he would know every single detail of all those women's lives. Trowa found it hard enough to remember most of Catherine's ex-boyfriends. In fact, he didn't even know if his sister was currently in a relationship with someone at the moment.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Quatre asked. Trowa noted the way his brows drew together in semi-annoyance and semi-concentration. "Fine then, give me a number and I'll give you names and facts."

"How about sister number 14?" Trowa said, picking a random number off those that were most prominent in his mind.

"Her name is Jasmine. She has three children and she's married to Jacques, a plant doctor. Her eldest daughter Anna is 12, followed by Henri who's 10, and Lea who's three and a half. They have two pet rabbits named Hamster and Guinea Pig, and a talking parrot named Rabbit, all named by their youngest."

Trowa considered the automatic response to be a lucky coincidence. He may have picked the favorite sister thereby giving Quatre the opportunity to sound as if he really was an expert on all 29. Still, it was a little unnerving to imagine that same amount of information being stored about 28 others.

Trowa found himself unable to concentrate solely on the iodine bottle, accidentally tipping it over too far, causing the dark liquid to spill on fair skin. Quickly wiping away the excess, Trowa noticed that Quatre's skin easily absorbed the liquid so that his back was tinted with a strange light brown color. After apologizing for his carelessness, Trowa continued his questioning.

"Umm, how about your 28th sister?" he asked next.

It took Quatre no more than two seconds to breathe before he revealed the necessary information. He looked smug as he relayed several bits of information about his sister.

"Her name is Marissa," Quatre said, burying the side of his head further into the pillow as he looked somewhere to the far corner of the room. "She's a third year medical student. She's not married nor does she have any children, but she has an on again off again relationship with a physical therapist named Robby. I promised him that I'd gut him if he made her cry again. She'd had nothing to do with me since. I suppose prying was the not the smartest thing to do."

Unease that seemed to have been caused by a touchy subject was building up. Trowa felt the need to reverse the mood somehow. After all, he'd been unlucky enough to pick the wrong sister. Perhaps his next pick would lighten the mood if only just a little. He didn't like seeing Quatre serious and certainly did not want him to withdraw back to his guarded state. There was something satisfying about Quatre's more playful and flirtatious approach to things. At least then, he looked somewhat content and a little less stressed.

"What about your 8th sister?" Trowa almost croaked. He mentally crossed his fingers hoping that he didn't pick a touchy one. With 29 to choose from, it was really hard to hit the mark.

"Emma is autistic and has lived in an institution since she was seven. She enjoys cherry-flavored Jell-O the best, but only after you feed it to her after 3:32 pm; otherwise, she would throw it across the room and refuse to eat anything for the rest of the day. She bites rather hard and won't let go until you rub some ice on her pinky."

...So much for picking a less touchy subject. Trowa made his best efforts to sound sympathetic while attending to his currently somber ward. The look on Quatre's face was not very promising.

"Sorry for bringing that up," he said, finding himself applying a band-aid on Quatre's back more gently than he intended. It resulted in an uneven application that forced him to grab a new piece from the quickly diminishing supply. Trowa could not imagine what any of it was like and frowned when he realized the responsibilities that weighed Quatre down. It made him feel a little childish for seeking Quatre out and wanting him for himself.

"It's not your fault," Quatre said, twisting his back so that he could get a better look at Trowa. "It's not like you knew right?" he continued.

"I suppose," Trowa answered, before twisting Quatre further so that he could work on the other's chest. "Do you visit all of them regularly?"

"I do. It just takes a bit of scheduling. I visit each of them at least once a month unless they come down with something in which case I have to be there right away. Emma's the exception though. I'm only allowed to visit her twice a month."

Trowa began counting with his fingers before his concentration was disturbed by Quatre's hand being waved in front of his face.

"Trust me, you won't be able to figure it out," Quatre said before settling himself on the bed. When he found a comfortable position, he steadied himself, allowing Trowa to work with ease. The histories of 26 other sisters were discussed throughout the rest of the early morning. Trowa only groaned when he came in sleepy for work the following day.

oOo

"What kind of friend are you?"

Trowa watched Duo choke on his drink mid-sip. He looked nothing like the all-knowing computer technician he was supposed to be as he hacked a few wet sounding coughs, slapping his hand against a monitor in the process. The thin LCD slipped from the table and fell with a loud crash on the floor. Surprisingly enough, the device survived the momentary abuse.

"Could you have at least visited during lunch break?" Duo said, holding a hand up to his chest as if Trowa's sudden accusation had caused a heart attack. "Let me guess. This has something to do with Quatre."

"It always does," Trowa answered. He felt embarrassed enough to pick up the fallen monitor, but not enough to apologize for barging in on Duo during work hours. Besides, the guy was already eating so there was no need to come in during break time. As far as he knew, Duo took a break whenever he felt like one.

"Let's hear it," Duo said with a roll of his eyes. He was more than likely ready for whatever Trowa had to say and that caused a bit of annoyance on Trowa's part. Being the last one to know everything seemed to be the case since he'd moved to that town. He was the new guy, therefore not being witness to most of what had happened around there in the past. Still, they could at least fill him in every once in a while. Finding all the little secrets out of shock was surely not going to be good for his health.

"That... huge gorilla. You know him," Trowa said. It took a lot of his self-control not to raise his arm and point a menacing finger at Duo. "He's too... violent."

"Professionally violent," Duo answered casually before he picked up his drink and sipped. Forgotten was the mess he made.

"So he's a professional," Trowa repeated. His guess had been right then.

"Yes, a professional," Duo echoed. He placed his drink down on his station and picked up a sandwich. "Don't worry. The guy's been tested for STDs and all that. He's exclusively Quatre's. They use protection and trust me, all the precautions have been taken care of," he continued between bites.

"He looked like he beat the living daylights out of Quatre with a hammer and a corkscrew!" Trowa exclaimed, earning him a strange look from the few people that passed by Duo's station. If anyone needed Duo to fix something, then they would have to wait. There was no way he was leaving until he got what he wanted from Duo.

"Oh, he's paid to do that too," Duo responded, smiling sheepishly. "Look, this is not the kind of thing I like discussing at work. Maybe this could wait until we get out of here later this afternoon."

"He's five times Quatre's size," Trowa growled instead of screamed just in case there were more curious folks passing by.

"But Quatre could take him down with one hand tied behind his back," Duo answered, blinking in his direction. From the way Duo looked at him, it felt like Trowa was blowing things out of proportion, which he really wasn't. He was only concerned.

"It's just not..."

"Right?" Duo supplied. He sighed and then ran his fingers through his bangs. "You sleep with guys instead of girls, so that's not right either? Think about it Trowa. Quatre's a masochist. Whatever he does in the bedroom is his business. If he likes getting hurt then that's his choice. You've got no right to say what is or is not right."

"It's harmful then."

"Harmful?" Duo snorted. "You want to know what's harmful? Before I dug Bjorn out of whatever sexual deviant corner I found him in, Quatre liked releasing stress in a different way. Tell me, would you rather he pick a random stranger off the street or better yet, ram his car into a tree. That poor Maserati..."

"What?"

"That Maserati, a Quattroporte 4.2 V8 model... One cold, gloomy day when he was all stressed out, he ran the car into a sturdy tree. As you could imagine, he ended up with a very expensive smashed car with matching broken ribs and complementary bruises. The guy gets reckless under stress. Now tell me, what you would prefer, him running his car off a cliff or a professionally placed corkscrew down his back?"

"Neither," Trowa answered, feeling rather insulted that Duo would worry about the car. It was nothing compared to Quatre's well-being. "Well I think that..."

Not much of Trowa's explanation left his mouth before he was interrupted by the beeping sound coming from Duo's computer. Having been really pumped up to explain himself, Trowa was annoyed at the sudden interruption.

"Duo here," the lab technician said after he pushed AltF9 on his keyboard. A familiar face immediately came into view. Upon noticing him in the background, Quatre immediately addressed him, not minding that it was Duo he was supposed to be talking to.

"Hey handsome, how about we go on a get-away tomorrow?"

It was obvious enough to Trowa that Quatre was talking to him, not Duo.

"Wait, you're skipping work?" Duo interrupted, grabbing the monitor so that only he saw Quatre.

"Yeah and so is he," Quatre answered without even consulting him first. Trowa didn't even know if he could get out of work tomorrow.

"But you never skip," Duo insisted, looking as if he'd just been told that he had a head tumor and was going to die next week. "That's insane! You're skipping work for him?"

"Everybody always says that I need a vacation."

Trowa peeked through the side of Duo's head to get a view of the monitor. Quatre's response was to wave at him, signaling to Duo that he was interrupting their conversation.

"You never listen to what everybody else says," Duo said dryly before giving up his possession of the monitor. He reluctantly put it back down in the middle of the table so that Trowa could get a better view. "_He_ has possessed you," Duo concluded, pointing a menacing finger at him. Trowa reflexively stepped back so his eyes weren't poked.

"Maybe if you didn't tell him where I was then the poor thing wouldn't have been traumatized and I wouldn't need to make it up to him," Quatre said in response. He looked smug as he said it. "Anyway, I don't have much time. Trowa, I'll be picking you up at six tomorrow morning. Bring light clothing. I'll make sure you don't have to come in for work. Duo, please arrange for that."

"What makes you think I'll do that for him?" Duo said, obviously annoyed.

"Because I said so," Quatre answered before cutting the connection.

Trowa could only stare at the screen as Duo glared in his direction. He hadn't even gotten the chance to agree with the arrangement, but at least he was going to be spending a little more time with Quatre. It paid to meddle in other people's business sometimes.


	19. Part Nineteen

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Nineteen)**

The wind was blowing around his head but not directly on his face, causing the uncommon fall of his hair to fly backwards. The wind was good even in the early morning. Having risen only a few minutes ago, the sun was casting its soft rays down on his skin, making him feel warm despite being cooled by the blowing wind.

"I hope I didn't pick you up too early," Quatre said, keeping his eyes on the road. He too seemed to be enjoying the mixture of warmth and chill although Trowa could not tell. The sunglasses Quatre had on prevented him from seeing the mirth he hoped was in his companion's eyes.

"No. I don't mind getting up early," Trowa answered. True, he had been groggy and a bit cranky when his alarm went off that morning, but this outing was worth it. A whole day and a half with Quatre and Quatre alone was going to be something he won't forget for a very long time.

They'd been on the road for over an hour, Trowa realized when he saw the coast come into view. Wherever it was they were going was somewhere secluded and far away. He had expected majestic houses lining the coast but was surprised when he saw nothing but sand along the expanse of untouched nature. It was something he was sure Quatre enjoyed more than anything. After all, the man was very private. He'd said so himself.

"I didn't bring anything for swimming," Trowa said suddenly as a realization hit him. Quatre hadn't told him where they were going so he only thought to bring a few lights shirts and a couple of shorts. Had he known that they would be right next to the beach, he would have brought proper swimwear. He didn't want to miss the chance to swim. It was not very often that he got out of the city.

"I'm way ahead of you," Quatre said as his lips curled upwards. He didn't make a move to look at Trowa as he concentrated on the winding roads ahead. He did, however, point at a plastic bag next to Trowa's foot. "I got those just to make sure."

Surprised that Quatre had bought something for him, Trowa bent down to retrieve the plastic bag intending to survey its contents. He'd notice it since he stepped into the car but never thought it was for him.

"If you don't like it then at least _I'll_ like it," Quatre said with a smirk.

Wary of what that meant, Trowa dug his hands into the bag until his fingers came into contact with soft, slippery material. Quatre had bought him a swimsuit.

"You didn't have to," Trowa said, feeling scandalized at the thought of Quatre measuring him up with his eyes.

"Take it out," Quatre urged, momentarily stealing a glance at him.

When Trowa did take it out, he was surprised at the lack of material he held in his hand. It was swimwear alright. The Speedo logo was plastered on the back of the skimpy, solid black swim wear.

"Quatre!" Trowa said. If he felt scandalized before then he really was scandalized now. The minimal piece of clothing he held was smaller than a brief and only a few inches bigger than a handkerchief. He checked the size just to make sure.

"Do you like it?"

"How did you know my size?" Trowa questioned suspiciously. He didn't remember telling Quatre what his size was nor did he remember having himself measured by Quatre personally.

"I've been through your underwear closet," Quatre said as if the statement was some mundane fact thrown out for unimportant purposes.

"When?"

Trowa was starting to hyperventilate, the cause of which was more than one reason. First off, Quatre admitted that he had been to his underwear closet. That was embarrassing beyond belief. Then, he actually had to wear the skimpy, little thing in front of Quatre because he felt obliged to do so. His bits and pieces were going to be so openly displayed to anyone who might be unfortunate enough to look his way.

"You sure have bad memory," Quatre said, continuing to drive. "Right after I broke into your apartment and you oh so willingly slept with me that one night; I had to clean you up. It's only natural that I go through your underwear drawer. Since I was already there, I thought that I might as well check for your size. These little bits of information come in handy, you know."

That was where Trowa kept his top secret, questionable materials!

"And Trowa, not to chide you or anything, but if you're going to keep those filthy magazines hidden from view then you should have placed them somewhere less obvious. The underwear drawer is the first place anybody would look."

As it turned out, that was the last thing either of them said until they reached their destination. Trowa buried himself as far as he could into his seat, hoping for lightning to strike him. In spite of that, Quatre seemed to enjoy his humiliation. A wide smile was plastered on his face for the longest time Trowa had ever witnessed. Perhaps he'd found the secret to making Quatre happy, but it didn't make him feel the least bit content knowing that it was at his own expense.

However, mercy seemed to be on his side. Quatre did not bring up the topic again. They'd made it safely to Quatre's vacation home a few minutes later. Trowa put behind his humiliation in lieu of checking out the place. Unlike the main house, Quatre's alternate refuge looked homey. Replaced were the grand chandeliers, expensive paintings, and frighteningly white surroundings. This abode relied on earth-toned furniture to make it appear warm and welcoming. There wasn't a lot of decorations save for a number of pictures on the walls of what looked to be Quatre's family members. A tough-looking man in his mid-forties was the first to stare back at him. The familiar hair-style screamed out to him as did the moustache set above a stern mouth. The only visible eye in the picture seemed to observe him with unforgiving scrutiny.

"Your father?" Trowa asked, clearing his throat. The picture was sending him weird vibes. It was like the man in the picture was warning him. About what, Trowa could not guess.

"Yeah," Quatre answered, joining Trowa after having brought his own duffel bag into the house. "The rest of the pictures are of my mom and sisters, so you could guess that there really are a lot of people in the family."

"Your father was strict?" Trowa inquired because it looked to be that way from the angle where he stood. They eyes in the picture seemed to follow him.

"Not really," Quatre said while shrugging.

Trowa gave up his scrutiny for the time being, choosing instead to look around the rest of the receiving area. That was, before he heard Quatre release a contented sigh. He turned his head to find his companion smiling and eyeing the sliding glass door in the far corner of the living room. Without warning, Quatre ran toward the door to the outside, stripping as he ran past a large swimming pool toward what looked to be the end of a cliff. All Trowa could do was scream in horror as Quatre jumped off the cliff. He was soon to follow.

Upon getting past the swimming pool and close to the edge of the cliff, Trowa heard a loud splash of what was obviously a fallen body hitting the waters below. He looked down in horror to find Quatre unharmed and laughing as he splashed around the water. With two sharp and dangerous looking rocks down there, Trowa thought that Quatre was crazy to jump. Besides, they looked to be a hundred feet high.

"Are you crazy?" Trowa screamed although he already knew the answer to that. It was only a matter of time before Quatre finally did give him a heart attack.

"Don't worry. I've been doing this since I was a kid," Quatre assured him. He had to scream to the top of his lungs for Trowa to hear. "Why don't you come down and join me?"

Trowa hesitated as he looked down. If he didn't jump down there correctly then he would break his skull on those rocks. He did so love his skull and was unwilling to part with it just yet.

"Silly, take the elevator down here. I don't want you jumping. You wouldn't know where to land."

Trowa nodded dumbly. He'd only been there for five minutes so it should have been understandable that he didn't notice the elevator leading down to the waters below. He looked around before deciding to change out in the open. There didn't seem to be any civilization for miles. He doubted the birds flocking nearby would be interested in how he looked like naked. After having put on his newest piece of clothing, Trowa pushed the button of the elevator and waited to be brought down. There was a little too much air around his legs considering the lack of covering, but he braved it. Wearing his boxers would result in the waves pulling at it. He'd rather be barely clothed than rendered naked by the waters.

What he hoped to be a short ride downward turned into a nightmare. Trowa was horrified that the elevator of glass was see-through, giving Quatre a full view of his slouched body in Speedos slowly descending. Quatre had no shame as he stared at him. He seemed to be enjoying the view as he leaned his back against a smooth rock.

Trowa turned around and only then realized that it was going to be his butt that was exposed next. Quatre sure planned ahead when he bought the swimwear and had him come down the elevator. He was certainly not a force to trifle with. When the elevator finally made its stop, Trowa immediately dived into the water to hide his exposed body. Not only did he feel molested, he also felt ashamed that he'd gone along with Quatre's plans.

"I did warn you that I was going to enjoy it even if you didn't," Quatre said with a smug look on his face. He wadded through the water to join him. "So, how do you like it down here?"

"It's warm," Trowa said in surprise. With such a large body of water and the sun not too high up in the sky, Trowa thought that it would be freezing down there.

"There's a heating system right up to the end of the alcove. If you stray too far off, it gets cold. It's the same thing if you go too deep into the water. The heater works only in a limited space not to waste too much electricity."

Staring at the little sanctuary Quatre had brought him to, Trowa noticed that the body of water they were in was secluded from the rest of the ocean. The cliff curved inwards so that it formed a crescent moon shape around them. It wasn't closed off too much either such that the sun was still visible from where they were. Trowa also noticed that the two rocks protruding from the water each had a smooth side so that anyone could lean back on them when they got tired from dog-paddling around the body of water.

"This is my favorite place," Quatre said when Trowa did not say any more. "I used to come here a lot as a kid. This place is more home than the house I have back in the city. It's nice here."

Trowa felt honored to be graced with such a secret, so much that he didn't even care if Duo knew about it or not. To be told something that personal by Quatre himself was rare. It was almost unheard of.

"You don't come here often, do you?" Trowa asked as he held on to the rock Quatre was leaning on. His legs were starting to refuse the exercise.

"I don't have much time," Quatre said before looking at him. "You do like it, don't you?"

How could Trowa possibly not like the place? There was no reason to. The house and the surrounding area bared Quatre's soul. His personality was in the furniture and the pictures that decorated the walls. If there was anyone who wanted to find out more about Quatre then they would just have to visit the place. Even the usually busy man looked content. There was none of those mental schedules, psychotic driving, and sneaking into the labs to steal. For that moment, Quatre looked entirely human. Of course, Trowa still didn't forget the inhuman jump from the top of the cliff.

"It's really peaceful here," Trowa said, noting that the next house over looked like a small coin if he measured it from where he was.

"I'm glad you like it," Quatre said, before pulling his hand and urging Trowa to follow him to the middle of the little sanctuary. From there, Quatre pointed at the sun that was not covered by the thick clouds hovering close by. "You always get the perfect view from here," he said.

Now that, Trowa considered romantic. Too bad they weren't involved with each other. However cheesy it must have sounded, that was the perfect moment to kiss Quatre.

"And don't start on those cheesy ideas of yours," Quatre said while nudging him. It was eerie how the other could always read his mind. "I could tell from that goofy grin on your face."

Trowa could do nothing but turn that goofy grin toward Quatre. He'd never felt so unbelievably fluttery. Unknown warmth seemed to radiate from his chest. That same warmth filled his body until he felt hopelessly in love. Too bad Quatre didn't let it last for too long. Before Trowa could protest, he found his head dunked into the water.

"Mph," he said, noting that he managed not to swallow any water. That really destroyed the mood. He blinked repeatedly and hacked a few ones when his head was brought back to the surface. Really, if Quatre was going to drown him then he could have at least let him kiss him first.

"What was that for?" Trowa asked, quite irritated as he watched Quatre swim away from him.

"You were starting to daze off," Quatre responded, paddling his arms from side to side to stay up.

Trowa then decided that Quatre deserved a dunking as well. Taking a menacing move forward, Trowa gave Quatre no further warning before he swam as fast as he could toward the other. Eyes widening, Quatre desperately swam away from him in order to escape his wrath. Trowa was happily content when he caught up with the other, knowing very well that Quatre could out-run or out-swim him if he wanted to. Given the chance to attack, Trowa grabbed his waist with one arm before reaching out his other hand to dunk Quatre's head. They'd managed to stay in the water all the way through the afternoon.

Once the sun started bearing down its heat on them, Trowa fished Quatre out of the water, pointing towards the sun. Quatre got the clue, nodding his head and starting to climb the wall. Trowa managed to grab his shorts just in time.

"You could use the elevator," Quatre told him as he continued to grab hold of the massive rock. "I always climb up when I'm done here. Trust me. I grew up here. I'll make it up there before the elevator even makes it to the top."

Knowing that there was no use stopping Quatre, Trowa followed orders and watched as his companion climbed up the steep hill. From his view on the elevator, he could see that Quatre had memorized which sturdy spots to hang on to and which ones to put his foot on. By the time he'd reached the top, Quatre was already toweling off and grinning at him.

"What did I say?" Quatre said when the doors of the elevator opened.

Trowa shrugged, grabbing a towel from a nearby table. He didn't even notice that Quatre had them ready before he went down.

"Let's have lunch," Quatre suggested before gathering his things and moving to the inside of the house. The rest of their stay had been normal and completely uneventful, just the way Trowa liked it. He managed to get Quatre to talk all the way into the night that by the time he was yawning, he'd memorized half the names of Quatre's sisters and a few of their children. In turn, Quatre ended up memorizing his family history and all the names of the troupe members Catherine toured with. Trowa had been amazed by the way Quatre absorbed information and made sure to never turn him into an enemy. Quatre was surely going to be a dangerous adversary.

That night, Trowa got to pick his room out of three others that were housed within the four walls. He'd picked the blue room with a balcony that gave him a view of the sky and the ocean and thanked Quatre after receiving an extra blanket. He'd been unwilling to sleep for the night but was unable to stay up. All their activity during the course of the day made him tired and sleepy. He could only wonder what Quatre was doing as he drifted off to sleep.

Four hours later at about two in the morning, Trowa woke up to the sounds of the waves coming from the ocean. His window had been left open, allowing the cold breeze to come in. He'd almost closed the balcony doors when he noticed a light coming from the balcony right next to his. It was no surprise that Quatre was still awake.

Refusing his body's call for sleep, Trowa slipped out of his room and knocked on Quatre's door. Knowing him, he was probably doing paperwork that early in the morning when the rest of the population was dead asleep in their beds. He doubted that even the insomniacs would like to do tedious paperwork while they lay in their beds wide awake.

"Trowa?" Quatre said when his door opened up.

Trowa had been barely awake when he walked to Quatre's door but was now wide awake as he stared at a bare chest.

"You, uh..." he trailed off, not remembering why he was there in the first place. A couple of papers were held in Quatre's right hand while the other hand held both his pen and the open door. He was also wearing reading glasses. Despite all that, Quatre was practically naked. The black boxers that clung to his hips looked liked they were haphazardly put on when the door was answered.

"Can't sleep?" Quatre asked, unmindful of his state of undress. "Come in. You could stay here if you want. I'll pick a different room."

Trowa watched as Quatre put the papers once in his hand inside a Manila folder. His glasses were then taken off and placed on top of the folder together with his pen. As he retrieved the rest of his things, it became obvious that Quatre was going to leave.

"Aren't you going to bed?" Trowa inquired. He had no reason to claim the room but found himself unable to leave as he settled himself on the bed. From the slight rumples here and there, it was obvious that Quatre was sitting on it only moments ago while going through his work.

Quatre looked at the wall clock located right above the door.

"This is just about the time I go to bed," Quatre said, moving toward the door. "Sleep well, Trowa and feel free to call on me if you need anything."

Quatre was just about to leave through the door when Trowa ran for him, just in time to catch his wrist.

"Would you mind staying with me for the night?" he said quickly. He only hoped it didn't sound perverted because that was certainly not what he had in mind. He just wanted a warm body next to his as he slept.

Quatre blinked at him.

"I hope you're not asking for what I think you're asking for," Quatre said, unsmiling.

"No, just... I just want to sleep next to you," Trowa said. He didn't have the right words for it, so he kept whatever else he had to say to himself. He really hoped that Quatre wasn't going to take it the wrong way.

"I suppose that isn't too much to ask," Quatre responded to his request. Trowa was delighted that he was giving in so easily.

Without further prompting, Quatre put his things down on a nearby table and pulled the blankets aside before depositing himself in the bed. Just as mechanically, he turned off the lights and settled himself on his side, facing away from Trowa's side of the bed.

Happy that he was getting just what he wanted, Trowa joined Quatre in bed.

"Do you mind if I put my arms around you?" Trowa asked despite knowing what the answer would be.

"Yes I would mind," Quatre said. "Normally, I would twist your arm behind your back and make you scream in agony if you came anywhere near me, but as it is, this trip was for you and I owe you for a lot of things. Go ahead and do as you desire. Just don't try to molest me. I might not be able to control my reflexes and shove my elbow up your ribs."

"Thanks," Trowa said, not really hearing all that Quatre had to say. He was simply content as he put an arm around Quatre's waist and buried his nose into the other's shoulder. The living warmth that radiated off Quatre was exquisite. It filled him with absolute satisfaction. He supposed that it was as far as he would get with the other. Nevertheless, it was worth it.

"Aren't you going to put any pajamas on?" Trowa asked, realizing that the other hadn't even made a move to do so before climbing into bed. Not that he was complaining. Quatre's bare skin felt lovely.

"I usually sleep naked," Quatre answered automatically. He sounded dead serious as he said it, causing Trowa to cover up his surprise with a cough.

"Trowa, I hope that the thing poking my back isn't what I think it is."

"I believe that this time, you have assumed correctly."

"Pervert."

It was the last word Trowa heard out of Quatre before he fell asleep. Sleep, in short, turned out to be extraordinary.


	20. Part Twenty

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty)**

Trowa did not know how he had been convinced to accompany Quatre and Duo on that night's outing. All he could remember was Duo changing into a very revealing outfit in the locker rooms after work. He had worked overtime, so Duo's attire was the least of his worries. He couldn't wait to get home. He hadn't even gotten to step foot on his bus when he was immediately dragged off. By the time he realized that he wasn't going home, he was already stuffed in the back of Quatre's car. Duo was already grumbling and Quatre was in the process of taking out his tie. This time, it was Bugs Bunny slinging a companionable arm around a sneering Daffy Duck.

"Where are we going?" Trowa had asked dumbly. The question was answered fifteen minutes later when all three of them stepped foot inside an unfamiliar establishment filled with people, half of which were dancing and half of which were drinking themselves blind. There were a number of chairs and tables surrounding an elevated platform where multitudes of bodies moved in frenzied abandon.

"I don't dance," Trowa said before Duo shoved him into an empty seat. Quatre ordered him a drink. Two minutes later found him with a bottle of cold water and an instruction from Quatre.

"Don't drink," the other said. "I've instructed them not to give you anything alcoholic. Feel free to join in anytime you want." Quatre winked before leaving him alone.

Dressed in a gray, almost silver button-down shirt and black dress pants, Quatre walked up to the dance floor with Duo following close behind. Pointed, black, custom-made leather shoes glinted against the array of lights as he walked. That alone was a clear indication of his abundant wealth. Long, refined fingers ran themselves across the expanse of his scalp, making his downy hair bounce as it came down to frame the ever-somber expression on his face. Only his face and a patch of skin from the open shirt was visible from his conservative clothing, but Trowa thought that he was the most stunning person in the room.

Quatre positioned himself in the smallest of spaces before giving in to the music and moving with the raging beat. Duo, his forever sidekick, was close to follow and none too modestly began moving his body in what Trowa thought was the most erotic moves he'd ever witnessed on two legs. Trowa's eyes grew a few centimeters wide when he noticed that Duo was undulating within inches from Quatre's body. Quatre looked unmindful, encouraging even as he raised his arms in the air, giving Duo access to the rest of him. It wasn't even possible for the two to get any closer than they already were without touching.

"Sexy, aren't they?"

Oh, he thought Quatre was sexy. Duo was simply obscene. There was a difference between seductive and just plain dirty and since Trowa was never fond of Duo, only negative evaluations of the other came to mind. Besides, the fact that Duo was flaunting his obvious control over his dance partner made him a smug bastard in Trowa's eyes.

"Yeah, sure," Trowa answered without even looking at who made the observation. It was obvious enough what the two were displaying, so Trowa safely assumed that a conversation was being required of him. The stranger was bold to approach him just when he was seething at the sight before him.

"Which one would you pick?"

It was obvious who Trowa would pick out of the two, so he just snorted in response. He knew he was being rude and unapproachable, but his apprehension and growing anger could not be helped. He continued to stare at the only people he recognized from the crowd without facing the friendly stranger trying to talk to him.

"Personally, I'd go with the brunette."

That caught Trowa's attention.

"Excuse me?" he asked, finally facing the stranger. He was greeted by a friendly, heart-shaped face that housed a pair of deep blue eyes. The lady's hair, a dark shade of brown, looked like it was painfully pulled and pinched to get just the right hairstyle. Fortunately for her, the resulting look was very striking.

"I mean, look at that hair. It's so beautiful. Those clothes aren't too bad either. That form fitting shirt and those sexy pants are very flattering. He just screams sex. Don't tell me you'd rather go for the blonde! He looks way too boring."

Trowa contemplated the woman's evaluation before giving out a reason of his own. As far as he was concerned, Quatre was the definition of alluring and the epitome of handsome. The demons better cry in shame if they said otherwise.

"He's more mysterious," Trowa said, looking back at the object of his observation. Looking at Quatre without paying attention to Duo was best, it seemed. "The other guy gives you everything flat out so there's nothing else to look for. The blonde, it's like you want to dig deeper. There's so much you can't tell by just looking at him."

Such beautifully executed reasoning was not welcomed it seemed for the woman merely shrugged before giving him a companionable pat on his back.

"Whatever," she said flippantly, gaining his undivided attention once again. "I would've honestly picked you but you're so obviously gay. I guess its better luck for me next time then."

Just like that, he was left alone once again. Having nothing to do but nurse his bottle of water, Trowa continued watching the events unfolding before him. As far as he was concerned, those two were having sex and Duo was having a grand time dominating over Quatre's submissive form. Quatre's head thrown back and his arms up in the air gave Duo reason to lean his head forward as if to swipe his tongue across what little exposed skin there was. It made Trowa's blood boil. Duo was whispering something into his ear and whatever it was caused Quatre to jerk his head away and look at Trowa.

Across the few feet of space between them, Quatre stared with such indifference that it made Trowa wonder what Duo had told him. Light-colored eyes masked by the darkness seemed to penetrate his being before the look was withdrawn. What followed was a glare directed at Duo. Duo seemed amused by it and merely laughed in response. Whatever they were talking about, Trowa was sure he didn't like it one bit. A comment was obviously directed toward him.

Scoffing, Trowa looked down at his bottle and wondered if he could get himself something strong. Perhaps alcohol would give him the courage needed to climb up the dance floor, shove Duo aside, and take the other's place. As it was, Quatre had instructed the bartender to refrain from giving him anything alcoholic.

"Hey, are you bored?"

Surprised from the second intrusion, Trowa looked up to find Quatre staring at him with concern. A frown, not much different from the ones he'd been seeing lately, was directed at him. He looked harmless as he stood there with trickles of sweat dripping down his neck.

"No," Trowa answered stiffly, looking down at his drink. How could he be bored? Quatre's provocative display was going to be imprinted into his dreams for the next week.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No." It was another truth that sounded like a lie. There was no way he was leaving. It wasn't very often that he could watch Quatre that unguarded. He was going to take every chance he got.

"Trowa, is any of this making you feel uncomfortable?"

Trowa had a response in mind but held it back through sheer will-power. Of course there was something making him feel uncomfortable. It was Duo's gyrating around Quatre that caused the unrest within him. He chanced a look towards Duo and was rewarded with a childish gesture. Duo stuck his tongue out at him, bragging his obvious win. Quatre saw none of it.

"No. I was just thinking," Trowa said. It was a half-truth and a half-lie. It wasn't as if he was lying to Quatre straight out. He knew the other was concerned about his comfort in the rather chaotic establishment. "I don't want to disrupt your normal schedule. I'll be fine."

Quatre didn't seem to believe him and continued to stand his ground. He hesitated as he turned to go back into the dance floor. There were some whoops of joy within Trowa's mind because Quatre had been so concerned, but he chose to ignore them. He was being far too selfish.

"Really, I'm enjoying the company around here," Trowa lied again. If it meant that Quatre would stop worrying about him then so be it.

"I won't take all night," Quatre assured him before placing a cupped palm against his cheek. The strange and unexpected gesture earned him a glare from Duo. Just as quickly, Quatre's hand left his face, sliding against his neck in the process. As payback, Trowa smirked Duo's way, making sure that Quatre didn't see him. Duo might have been all over Quatre, but it was Trowa he touched. That was enough of a win to keep Trowa satisfied for the rest of the night.

With a goofy smile on his face, Trowa watched Quatre go back to his former position. Duo continued where he left off. He looked a little annoyed, but got over it as soon as Quatre whispered something into his ear. It seemed Quatre knew how to manipulate people well such that everyone was left happy.

"You didn't tell me you knew at least one of them," the woman from earlier approached him once again. "I've never seen you with either one of them here before. Are you the blonde's boyfriend?"

"No," Trowa responded just as dryly as he did earlier.

"A new acquaintance then? Those two are here every Friday night, dancing like they owned the place."

Trowa had a feeling that Quatre did, in fact, own the place. Otherwise, pictures of him with Duo dancing the way they did would be all over the tabloids. The place was suspiciously press-free.

"The brunette's always all over him but never touches," the woman continued, grabbing a seat to join him. "If anyone comes near the blonde, the brunette gets really violent and beats the crap out of anyone who even tries to get anywhere near him. I'd thought that they were together, but here you are. You look smitten with the blonde."

Trowa made no move to confirm or disconfirm her suspicions. He shrugged. It was the best he could do short of ignoring her. At least he could be with someone for the night. She seemed pleasant enough if not a bit too friendly.

"I'm surprised that pictures of them aren't floating around in the newspapers," Trowa commented, withdrawing his stare from the two in favor of turning his attention to his newest companion.

"Oh there were," the woman answered. She took a sip of her martini and chewed on the olive she'd picked up with a colorful toothpick. "I took the pictures," she continued before smiling languidly at him. "It was the talk of the town for a few weeks. They kept on doing it anyway and eventually, everyone got tired of reading about it. Scandalous news looses its allure with repetition."

Trowa could not help but remember the incident at the restaurant that had made him one of those unfortunate victims in the front page of a tabloid. However, he found that picture to be more tasteful that what he was witnessing in the establishment. Then again, the woman might have been interested in digging dirt on him and Quatre.

"Don't worry, you and him are old news," the woman suddenly assured him as if she could read his mind. "Besides, the blonde over there paid me off handsomely. I don't delve too much into his or his family's business."

For some reason, the revelation was disappointing. To hear that the two of them being an item was old news was a bit of a downer, not that they ever were together to begin with. It just sounded so negative.

"How long do they usually stay?"

"They're here all night before they rent a private room. Whenever they leave, the brunette is always dead drunk, but the blonde is always sober. He doesn't seem to drink anything but what you're holding."

Trowa stared at his bottle of water. Private room? What did she mean?

"It's the same every Friday night," she continued before pointing at the two. "I always wonder if they ever get tired."

Neither of them showed any signs of letting up. Quatre looked like he was loosing himself as he danced with his eyes closed. Now that Trowa paid more attention to him rather than Duo, he noticed a combination of salsa, swing, mambo, tango, and the waltz. Surely Quatre had been trained in formal dance for the endless number of functions he attended. What must have been awkward was actually very fitting. Not one movement coming from the usually preoccupied corporate man was gawky. Quatre exuded grace.

"Don't you wish you could pry one off the other?"

For some reason, the woman was starting to make a lot of sense. Duo was still a little too close for comfort. He was staring at Quatre with a physical desire that Trowa thought wasn't even possible with the usually jubilant and care-free man. Quatre was not aware of this because his eyes were closed. Duo was taking advantage of that fact, nearly devouring his dance partner with predatory eyes. To Trowa, it was a little too disturbing. He began to wonder if he too looked that desperate.

"All I know is that the brunette is not letting go of that blonde of his."

"He has to, eventually," Trowa murmured and then looked away. If they were going to be at it all night then he might as well enjoy the conversation with the woman who'd mercifully saved him from sulking. An assurance that Quatre had already paid her off gave him reason to be more open. He wasn't drunk in the slightest, but he wished he were.

"Because you want the blonde," the woman concluded.

Trowa nodded. Denial would have only garnered him useless angst. Quatre belonged to no one and seemed to toy with the reality that he could have anyone he wanted. His manipulation of Duo and himself was enough proof of that.

The rest of the talk with the unnamed woman proved to be pleasant and by the time she left, Trowa was glad that he pried his eyes away from the dancing pair. The woman had given him more information than what he could force out of Duo any day. People who snooped around for a living seemed to have an upper hand.

Not more than a few minutes later, Quatre and Duo joined him. Sweaty and flustered from the great amount of physical exertion they'd done, Duo went off to order them drinks. Quatre then sat across from him before leaning back on the chair.

"Stress relief?" Trowa asked without elaborating on the question. He'd known Quatre to work straight through the week and judging by his outings Friday night, it was safe to assume that it was the only break he allowed himself.

"You could say that," Quatre answered. His hair looked damp and so did his dress shirt. What little of his skin could be seen was glistening with sweat, much like the droplets coming down from his forehead. Quatre swiped away the droplets with a hand before resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands.

"Sorry for dragging you here. I thought you would've wanted to let loose for a little while."

"It's okay," Trowa said, before his fifth bottle of water was placed before him. He'd been going to the bathroom all night already.

Trowa watched as Duo sat down with his own drink, some alcoholic concoction he could not name, before throwing a cold bottle of water toward Quatre. The other gratefully accepted it before taking a swig. By the time Quatre let go of the bottle, the contents had been consumed. Trowa wordlessly handed his bottle in offering.

"Thanks," Quatre said without hesitation and opened up the second bottle presented to him. Meanwhile, Duo was already three fourths down his drink and already ordering another. If Quatre's drink was alcoholic as well, Trowa predicted that they would both be drunk at the end of five minutes.

"Let's go," Quatre instructed after he'd finished his second bottle. Duo complied readily, swallowing the rest of his drink. Trowa only blinked, wondering where they were supposed to go next, the private room maybe? The three of them? Wasn't that a bit much?

Trowa had no time to think any further when he was shoved by Duo's not so gentle hands into the 'private' room. He was surprised when his face was nearly smashed into a comfortable looking couch. The room was dimly lit, but more tasteful than the rest of the establishment. There was a corner couch along the left end of the wall and a small round table with three chairs in the middle of the room. Further north was a small stage for what Trowa believed was dancing or possibly karaoke because his imagination stretched that far. There was a refrigerator right next to the couch and a modest bar close to the door filled with a variation of alcoholic liquids.

"Care to drink?" Duo asked him as he picked out a bottle of vodka and a shot glass from the bar.

"Duo, he's not drinking," Quatre said before grabbing himself another bottle of water from the small refrigerator. "Trust me. He's scary when he's drunk. I doubt you want your ass kicked tonight."

"Like hell he could beat the crap out of me," Duo exclaimed before seating himself heavily down on an empty chair. "What's he going to do, hit me with a book?"

Duo roared with laughter while signaling for Trowa to take a seat next to them. Trowa would have been insulted, but chose instead to blame the attitude on the slowly disappearing liquor from the bottle. He complied, amiably sitting with them and making no move to say anything.

"Shove it or I'll be the one beating the crap out of you," Quatre said. It sounded cold coming from him, but his words held no bite. He only looked bored as he uncapped his drink and shoved it into his awaiting mouth. Duo didn't seem to take any offense to it either.

"Can't I at least see him a little tipsy?" Duo suggested to Quatre with large, doe eyes. It was obvious that he wanted to gain approval for his little experiment.

"He gets drunk on wine, not hard liquor," Quatre responded as if he knew him well. Trowa couldn't confirm the validity of that himself since he never went out of his way to see what made him drunk. Even if he did, he was sure he wouldn't remember what had intoxicated him anyway.

"Let's get some music in here," Duo said before standing up quickly and fiddling with the sound devices Trowa didn't notice when he'd entered. A few button pushing gave way to a very catchy tune Trowa recognized as more appropriate for dancing. It managed to drown out the music coming from the outside. Duo nearly bounced at his choice of music before turning his chair over and sitting back down with a flop.

"So Trowa, is it true that you wanted to beat the living shit out of me earlier?" Duo asked with a raised brow. Duo didn't beat around the bush it seemed.

Trowa didn't answer, choosing instead to stare down at the table. If he was that obvious then there was no need to confirm what the absolute look of murder he had on earlier meant.

"Duo, don't goad him," Quatre commanded. He leaned back on his seat, letting his head drop backwards before closing his eyes.

"The guy's so dead. I don't see why I have to sit here and watch him give me the stone wall treatment."

"That's easy coming from a guy who had fun tonight," Trowa answered all of a sudden. His voice had been controlled, making it sound like he didn't care for talking about it any further.

However, the effect Trowa was hoping for did not come. He was surprised when Quatre sat forward and looked at him with a frown, the same frown he'd been graced with earlier.

"You should've told me. We could have left earlier," Quatre said. He looked betrayed that Trowa had lied to him.

Again, Trowa did not answer. To him, words to defend himself were not necessary. He'd been with Quatre that night despite Duo's lingering presence. That was enough for him.

"Well then," Quatre said, standing up and pushing a few buttons on the sound devices Duo had tampered with earlier. "It isn't too late for you to have a little fun."

With the abrupt stop of the rowdy music came the soft tunes of sultry music. Smiling in his direction, Quatre positioned himself in front of the stage before pulling out the shirt tucked into his pants. He then removed the cufflinks around his wrists before tossing them carelessly on the table. A small plunking sound was heard from Duo's now contaminated glass. Unmindful of the foreign object inside his drink, Duo fished it out with his fingers before downing the contents of the glass.

"How about a private show?" Quatre said and then winked in Trowa's direction. Trowa's eyes widened because not a few seconds later, Quatre began dancing with the music, every so often unfastening a button. Trowa counted seven buttons and then gulped. It was not long before Quatre's chest was so openly exposed to him. The shirt was completely unbuttoned. Long, elegant fingers were ghosting over his belt buckle while the other moved slowly down his chest. When Quatre came forward, Trowa had to lean back into his chair as if the sensual display was going to eat him alive. Quatre paid no heed to his sudden alarm and continued, unbuckling his belt and removing the clasp that was holding either side of his pants together. The pants thankfully did not fall just yet.

With a smile Trowa had come to know as Quatre's alone, his current night's entertainment did a few more suggestive gestures before straddling Trowa's legs and settling himself there. From his position, Trowa could now see the welt marks and darkening bruises he had patched up the other day. Multitudes of perverted thoughts suddenly left his mind to be replaced by a feeling of apprehension. Quatre did not have to do any of this for him.

"What's wrong, Trowa?" Quatre whispered into his ear with a hint of frustration. He sounded like he was trying his best to please and failing at it miserably.

Trowa did not say a word, only leaned forward before putting his arms around the slender waist. He then placed his head against the exposed chest, noting the way Quatre's sweat smelled like. He breathed in and held on tighter as if letting go was the most blasphemous thing to do.

"Now that's what I call psychotic," Duo exclaimed drunkenly from his seat. "Any other guy would be throwing him down on the floor and ravishing him right about now," he said before his head dropped down on the table.

Trowa ignored the comment and continued holding on. Quatre did not move afterwards. His arms were planted firmly against his sides. He just stayed there unmoving. Trowa did not know how long nor did he see any of the expressions on Quatre's face. None of it mattered with each passing minute. Trowa couldn't even remember how he got home the following morning.


	21. Part Twenty One

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-One)**

With a few quiet weeks having passed without him being scrutinized by the public eye, Quatre was fairly disappointed when he was disturbed from his idle drinking by a quick but very obvious flash. The perpetrator of the crime, he presumed, was a neophyte with a very expensive looking camera. With the way he'd fled the scene after giving away his location, his face, and his method of attack, Quatre was sure that he had yet to be warned about such graceless tactics used against him. Soon, that boy was going to find himself unable to sell his photograph because not only did he take only one picture, he also failed to adjust the settings of his camera for daylight.

Quatre only frowned as he continued to drink his glass of water. Really, did the guy think that he was going to be able to sell the photograph? What juicy news was there to talk about with a picture of him drinking a dull beverage in front of an ordinary restaurant? The guy should have at least waited for his companion to arrive.

"Still being followed around by pests, I see."

"That's strange coming from a guy who works in the same profession."

Looking up, Quatre smiled at his newest companion, someone who he hadn't seen in years. Heero Yuy looked a bit more filled out and a lot more stern than he was when they were teenagers. The same wild aura of brown hair seemed to follow him through his adult years and his eyes still held the intensity Quatre often admired when they were younger.

"You should know better than to put me in the same category as them. I have a better camera."

"How have you been Heero?"

"More or less busy," Heero answered, pulling up a chair before depositing himself on it. He then signaled for a random waiter. "Although, compared to you, I'll always be a bit too lazy."

Quatre leaned back on his chair and placed his glass on the table before shamelessly taking inventory of his companion with a calculating stare. Heero didn't mind, choosing to do the same.

"You look like shit," Heero concluded after more or less two minutes of staring. "I didn't know growing up was going to turn you into this."

"On the contrary, the media people seem to be fond of the way I look and so does our server," Quatre said, unmindful of the way their approaching waiter blushed from his disclosed attraction. The young man fiddled with his notepad and pen, looking anywhere but at the two seated.

"You're still very aware of the way you look. Not very much has changed about you, Quatre," Heero responded before mercifully turning his attention to their fidgeting server. He glanced at his menu sparingly as if he already memorized the contents within. "I'll have the ribs," he said as he crossed his arms and waited for Quatre to order.

"Poached salmon," Quatre said next without looking at what the establishment had to offer. "Steam the vegetables. Don't fry them."

"Uh, any appetizers?" their waiter asked next after scribbling down Quatre's order. "We offer fried calamari, Italian style nachos, three cheese quiche platters, fried shrimp balls..."

"Raw carrots, no dip," Quatre interrupted and then picked up his glass of water. "Anything else that sounds good to you, Heero?"

"Luckily, I also share your choice of appetizers," Heero responded before looking up. "That will be all."

Their sever nodded politely before leaving them alone, probably traumatized with the way they had turned down the most mouth-watering of their appetizers. Just the sound of the appetizers usually had their patrons salivating for a few and gorging on more than one.

"And you still eat like a health nut who's scared of becoming diabetic next week," Heero said when they were left to talk. "So tell me, what would a powerful, very _busy_ man need from me?"

"I haven't seen you in years Heero," Quatre said, leaning forward so that his hands were folded before him. "I expected a friendlier welcome. Do I always need a reason?"

"You always have one. You're the most scheming guy I know. Spill it."

"You make it sound like we didn't leave in good terms."

"I wasn't exactly the happiest of teenagers when I last saw you."

"I didn't break your heart now did I?"

A light cough resounded from somewhere between them, causing Heero to withdraw whatever he had to say in favor of turning his attention to the interruption. He looked displeased, especially with the way his cold blue eyes turned away from Quatre.

"Your appetizer, sirs," their uncomfortable server said, placing the platter of carrots down on the table. He then placed a glass of water in Heero's side of the table before refilling Quatre's. The process took less than five seconds. Quatre sensed unease.

"Quatre, I highly doubt that the reason why we're meeting here is to discuss what was in the past. You consider those a waste of time if I remember correctly."

Quatre considered Heero's answer and method of delivery. He was annoyed, highly annoyed. If Quatre didn't move quickly for the save then Heero would most likely leave. That in itself was unacceptable. He'd invited the other out to lunch for a very good reason.

"I'm sorry. I was being a brat," Quatre said, choosing the word that was most prominent in his mind. It was also the word Heero had more than once associated with him.

"Damn right you are," Heero responded. He looked put out for a while before the scowl on his face gave way to a nonchalant kind of calm. "One of these days you're going to find yourself wanting someone you can't have. It'll serve you right for putting everyone else through shit."

What Quatre knew was meant as a snide, off-handed remark somehow sounded like a curse. Quite uncharacteristically, Quatre pulled back as if stung by truly hurtful words. He found himself withdrawing from his position, placing his hands on his lap before looking down at them. He couldn't figure out, for the life of him, why the statement struck a nerve.

"Jesus, it's not like I wanted to make you cry," Heero said immediately, leaning forward into their table in an attempt to breech the distance between them.

Quatre shook his head. He wasn't about to cry or at least he didn't think he was. He was simply caught off-guard by an odd statement coming from the most unlikely guy he thought was capable of such declarations.

"Excuse me?" Quatre asked, startled. "Whatever made you think that I wanted to cry?"

"I know how you look like when you cry. I've seen it once before," Heero responded. He sounded knowing and a little smug, but he was obviously concerned. The way he unconsciously leaned forward and let his hands wander so that they were as close to Quatre as possible was a good indicator.

"Heero, you saw me crying at my father's funeral. I highly doubt anything bothering me right now would constitute the same depth of emotion to make me tear out in front of you, especially outside a busy and very public setting. Might I remind you that I stay discreet in these settings?"

"I'm usually right about these things," Heero said, sounding unsure. He directed a wary glance Quatre's way as if the logical explanation was not enough to satisfy him.

"The word you used was 'usually'," Quatre clarified. "In this case, you're wrong. I do, however, have a favor to ask of you."

"Quatre, I'm not going to off someone for you," Heero said in the most serious tone of voice Quatre had ever heard from him.

"What?" Quatre said suddenly before covering his mouth to stop his laughter. "Why is it that my requests always have to do with some manufactured Mafia-style dealings you have in your imagination?"

"I read a lot of books, alright," Heero said. "You know how I interpret these things. It's always been that way," he added.

His defense wasn't working much because Quatre's contained laughter came out in the form of chocked snickers. Quatre was pretty sure it looked like a piece of fruit was lodged in his breathing hole. Some of Heero's ideas were too ludicrous to consider even slightly sane.

"Alright, so you've had your fun," Heero said. Gone was his concern to be replaced by embarrassment that was well-hidden within his ever-scowling face. His discomfort was further accentuated by the way he crossed his arms against his chest, the bulging muscles in his arms exposed for all to see. To anyone else, it would have looked threatening.

"What I was saying was," Quatre said after composing himself. He cleared his throat and then sipped on his water for good measure. "I was wondering if you were interested in dating someone I know."

Not even two seconds after he'd said it, Heero's chair scraped against the pavement. His companion looked irate as he stood, ready to leave. It was obvious enough to Quatre that Heero didn't like what he heard. It made Quatre wonder if he'd gone about it the wrong way. Was it asking too much? He wasn't even forcing Heero into anything. He was just asking.

"Leaving already?" Quatre asked, showing none of the alarm he felt at having his perfect choice for Trowa reject his suggestion.

"Quatre, since when were you a matchmaker?" Heero said while he remained standing. He didn't look like he was going to sit back down anytime soon. "Are you serious?" he asked more gravely.

"I know. It's completely out of character," Quatre replied, raising his hands up in the air in defeat. He was willing to admit it. He was becoming something he didn't even know he was capable of becoming. Why was it that Trowa always brought out the strangest in him?

"Fine. I'm giving you five minutes to explain yourself. If I don't like what I hear then I'm leaving," Heero said, pulling his chair back out before sitting down. He crossed his arms again to further emphasize his point.

"There's this guy Trowa..."

"The guy in the paper," Heero dully supplied.

"Yes, the guy in the paper. I wanted you to..."

"You need to keep him preoccupied because he's probably slobbering all over you, so you're throwing him my way."

"Heero, I would appreciate it if you let me finish my sentences."

Quatre had always stayed calm despite several trying instances with the public and the many who hated him with a passion. Still, it was always Heero who managed to bring out the impatient brat in him. Perhaps it was because he felt more comfortable with Heero or maybe it was because his once best friend had spent years getting past his composure to end up successfully picking on his vulnerable innards.

Quatre could not forget the day they met at his father's burial of all places. Back then, he'd managed to hide himself within the Winner family mausoleum despite the insistence of the press to hound him. He was a scared, orphaned, 15 year old boy who was in need of someone to share his sorrow with. His sisters had been no help in the matter, simply pushing several different lawyers his way to handle the odds and ends of the family business. It had been a difficult time, enough to cause a few droplets of moisture to gather in his tear ducts.

Heero had found him then, hunched between a shovel and crate, stuffing his face into his arms because there had been no other way of hiding his tears. The other teenager, upon finding him, commanded him to look up. Quatre had readily agreed back then because he was unsure of who had called him. Heero's voice of authority demanded attention. He did lift his face eventually only to be attacked by several flashes and rolls of film. Heero had always been an insensitive jerk even way back then. The bastard had made quite the reputation as the only person who had managed to take pictures of him in his most vulnerable. Not even the older professionals had succeeded in that aspect.

"Quatre, throwing that poor fool my way won't solve your problem," Heero said, jerking Quatre out of his quiet reverie.

Quatre watched Heero's scowl turn into one of deep annoyance, reminding Quatre of the many instances when Heero had threatened to kill him. But perhaps kill wasn't the nicest word to use. Heero had used the term destroy specifically. He'd threatened to destroy Quatre's reputation with pictures several times despite never going through with it. Had Quatre slept with him, he was sure that Heero would have tapes of those lying around as well, waiting to be distributed just in case Heero finally decided to follow through with 'destroying' him. As it was, Heero thought Quatre was involved in some illegal business and would never be swayed no matter how much convincing he did.

"Trowa is not an object nor is he a fool. He's not a minor disturbance either. He's done a lot to help my family. All I'm trying to do is find him a date. He's a lonely guy. God, why does it always have to be so hard with you?"

Heero smirked at him and then made a gun motion with his thumb and index finger before pointing it directly at him. That caused a few gasps of horror to be directed his way. After all, it was scandalous to threaten one of the richest and most powerful men around. Surely a hoard of bodyguards would follow in his wake, taking down the person who dared to try such a thing. Quatre was sure their audience was waiting for an action sequence akin to those seen in movies.

However, Quatre was going to disappoint. He was very used to such displays by Heero, so he ignored the threat, the people gawking in their direction, and the fact that he didn't have any bodyguards.

"Oh, grow up," Quatre said with a roll of his eyes. "What do you say? He's gorgeous, he's sweet, and he'll take you out on really romantic dates. He's perfect."

"And he's not with you why?"

"Because I gave up on relationships a little while ago."

"You couldn't get over me, can you?"

"Oh, please," Quatre replied, finally picking up a carrot from the untouched platter. "Don't flatter yourself. It's just an issue of me turning all the guys I've ever been with into paranoid psychopaths, not that you weren't already one to begin with, Heero" he continued, ending his statement with sugar-laced sweetness.

"I see you're capable of actually _being_ in relationships," Heero said in response.

Having counted six minutes since Heero attempted to leave; Quatre was satisfied that he still had his audience. It was then that their still nervous waiter arrived with their order. Two large platters were put down on the table before the usual pleasantries of 'do you need anything else' and 'call me if you need anything' were robotically delivered.

"What's this about? Are you trying to save him the trouble of getting involved with you or something?" Heero asked, immediately working on his dish. A napkin was tucked in the collar of his shirt before he picked up a very large, barbecue laced rib.

"He's a valuable asset to my family," Quatre said as he picked up his fork and knife. "Trowa's uncanny skill will ensure that my sisters will remain healthy. I have every reason to make sure that he's happy at all times."

In fact, Quatre had been working hard to make sure that Trowa was and remained happy. Everything he did - skipping work, taking Trowa out for food, bringing him to his vacation home, showing him all the secrets to his house, performing a strip-tease for him - was done to gain Trowa's trust. It was manipulative to some degree, but it fit perfectly within his scheme of things. True, Trowa had managed to confuse him with his thoughtful little ways, but Quatre was still set on his goal. His family's well-being came above all else. Too much energy was already being expended trying to keep up with Trowa's demands, so it was only natural that he offset Trowa's attentions to someone else.

"I see. You're using him," Heero said. He raised an eyebrow at Quatre while holding a rib close to his mouth. Quatre had yet to touch his food.

"You're entitled to your opinions," Quatre replied. Staring with sudden distaste at his lunch, he reluctantly began consuming the fish and the over-steamed broccoli on his plate. It was best to keep in shape with the kind of work he did.

"How many people have you used so far?"

Duo came to mind, although now that Quatre thought about it, the very protective lab technician had willingly submitted himself to his plans.

"Like I've already said, think what you want Heero."

"Very well then. I'll make sure to use this opportunity to my full advantage. Think of this as my way of getting back at you. Although, if he's as nice as you say he is then I just might fall for him."

"Do as you will," Quatre said as he continued to consume his meal. "I'll send you all the details later. Just don't try to hurt him because I'll be the first one to hunt you down."


	22. Part Twenty Two

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Two)**

Quatre rang the doorbell once before depositing his hands into his pockets. The door from where he stood was made of dark wood upon which an intricate pattern of vines and flowers were etched. The handle of the door accentuated the grand entrance with a thick curl of shining, spotless gold that continued on to the top and bottom of the door's left side. Quatre thought it was impressive. Then again, Stella always had a love affair with extravagant detail.

"Give me a minute," he heard the muffled voice of his sister from the other end of the door. A few more shuffles were heard before the door was opened to reveal the tall and slender form of his nineteenth sister against a backdrop of marble floors and a crystal chandelier.

"It's good to see you Stella," Quatre greeted, keeping his hands in his pockets. A genuine, unguarded smile reserved only for his family made its way to his usually serious face.

"Quatre," his sister greeted, not inviting him in but leaving the door open for him to enter.

Unfazed by her cold greeting, Quatre entered closing the door behind him. The heels of his leather shoes clicked against polished marble before he deposited them into a nearby shoe closet and retrieved some slippers.

"How have you been?" Quatre asked genially, weaving his way through the grand hallway and into the kitchen. Having been to the place several times before, Quatre knew exactly where he was going.

"I'm not feeling sick if that's what you're trying to ask," Stella answered dully. She looked concentrated as she picked a drink from the array of beverages in her fridge. It was filled with juices, bottled water, sodas, and a variety of liquid concoctions. Her hand finally settled on a bottle of water before she picked it up and closed the door.

"Here," she said, tossing the drink to Quatre without warning. Having expected it, Quatre caught the bottle with ease. What he didn't expect was an apple to be thrown right after. That resulted in the fruit bouncing off his nose and landing on his unoccupied hand.

"I was talking about how you are in general," Quatre specified while he rubbed on his nose.

Stella had no time to answer because before another word could leave her mouth, Quatre heard a war cry coming from the top of the stairway. Not long after, he was pounced by a tangle of long limbs that had him holding his hand against a nearby wall for balance. Upon further inspection, Quatre noticed pigtails streaked dark brown on a head that was buried against his shoulder. Skinny arms filled with colorful accessories were curled around his neck.

"Uncle Quatre!" his attacker greeted. "You should have told me you were coming."

"I did tell you," Quatre said, chuckling as he peeled the teenager off of him. She may have been younger, but she was only two inches shorter than him. Quatre estimated that by the time she reached adulthood, she would be significantly taller than him.

"No you didn't," his niece insisted, crossing her arms in the process. Several wristbands settled themselves on different parts of her arm with the movement, making it look like the sleeves her tank top did not have.

"Caitlin, you know how I feel about you making a ruckus," her mother reprimanded.

"Oops, sorry mom," the girl said before she pulled on Quatre's wrist and lead him to the tall chairs by the kitchen counter. She didn't look at all deterred by the light scolding.

Quatre could only follow her lead as he was hauled up into his seat.

His nineteenth sister did happen to have such a riotous family, due to the fact that her husband Brian was fun-loving and always out for mischief. Not the same could be said for his sister who found solace in the gardens whenever she was bothered by the flurry of movement inside their home. The union gave birth to three children, two of which were off to college with their youngest being the sole offspring living with them. The house may have been loud now, but during spring break and lengthy holidays, it was a lot louder. Quatre liked it a lot.

"Uncle Quat, I got you another tie," the youngest member of the household said excitedly. "I was preparing it for when you'd come by." Following the announcement, Caitlin dug deep into her pockets before presenting Quatre with what she promised. The silk accessory hanging from her hand featured a line of frogs, one on top of the other with the largest frog in the bottom and the smallest on the top. "How do you like it?"

Quatre laughed, taking in the varying degrees of both glee and annoyance on each of the frog's faces. His niece did always pick the most eye-catching of neckties.

"I love it," he said, taking the offered gift from her hand. "I'll have Duo program it into the clothes organizer."

"You're still incompetent when it comes to picking your own clothes I see," Stella said from where she stood right next to the fridge. She managed to retrieve a bottle of Perrier for herself in the time her daughter had accosted Quatre. "Don't tell me you still let that Maxwell idiot dress you."

Quatre made no move to defend Duo or himself and simply shrugged. Sometimes, there really was no way out of it. His sisters had as much hatred for Duo as he did them. They would always scoff at Duo's apparent lack of grace and he in turn would insult them. It was a vicious cycle.

"Mom, you know Uncle Quat looks good in anything," his niece spoke instead, saving him the trouble of picking a side. She sent him a wink before trying to catch his attention again. "I've got no date to the school ball in two weeks," she whined all of a sudden out of the blue as if the revelation was the next important topic in their agenda.

"You're too pretty not to have a date," Quatre said, blinking. He wasn't even trying to flatter her. With her mom's form, her father's eyes, and her naturally highlighted hair, she was more attractive than any average teenager.

"My date cancelled out on me since his parents wanted him to go with them on some cruise. Everyone else already has a date," she pointed out disdainfully, dropping sharp eyes into her lap. To anyone else, it may have sounded childish, but Quatre knew that it just wasn't about showing up in extravagance. Those school functions tended to serve more than one purpose to people her age. It was about widening her social sphere.

Quatre closed his eyes, quickly going over his mental schedule. He checked for meetings, deadlines, charity functions, trips to Quinn labs, and possible appointment cancellations before finding little potholes within his busy schedule.

"I might be able to come with you if you tell me what day it is," Quatre said.

"Oh my god!" his niece squealed with delight. Quatre thought that both his ear drums got busted in the process. "Are you serious?"

Quatre nodded in response, earning him another squeal. He could only cringe as he was subjected to some of the highest pitches he'd ever heard.

"It's on the second Saturday of the month, from six 'til ten o'clock at night," she answered him and then crossed her fingers on both hands.

With a specific date and time to work with, Quatre closed his eyes again, rearranging what needed to be while evaluating which meetings were worth canceling. It took him no more than two minutes to figure out a plan of action. He was satisfied when everything seemed to work in his favor. With Trowa now out of the picture, he had more time allotted for other activities. For some reason, it sounded a little sad.

"Ok. I'll be there," Quatre said before reminding her of one little detail. "But," he said, looking at her more seriously. "If one of your aunts gets sick, I'm going to have to cancel or leave early. You know that, right?" he asked, just to make sure that she knew what she was getting into.

"Of course!" Caitlin answered. She still looked, more or less, too happy to even care. "This is perfect," she said after leaving her seat and doing a little victory dance. "Uncle Quatre's so hot. It'll make everyone jealous."

"You obviously don't know what you're getting yourself into," Stella said and only then did it occur to Quatre what was going to happen. Rowdy music, squealing girls, jealous boyfriends, jealous girlfriends, predatory teenagers, and a slew of morbidly typical scenarios came to mind. He began to worry.

"Oh come on mom! Don't scare him."

"I wasn't trying to scare him Caitlin. I was only kind enough to warn him. And Quatre," she added, directing a glare at him. "Make sure you teach her none of your promiscuity."

Quatre nodded before looking down at his folded hands. He knew better than to protest against his sister. She was as strict as they came. Duo even said that he thought he'd seen fangs on Stella once.

"What's promiscuity mean?" Caitlin asked all of a sudden as if Quatre's humiliation wasn't enough already.

"It means that your Uncle Quatre sleeps around honey," her mother obliged her, earning them both an 'oh help me God' look from Quatre.

"No way! Uncle Quatre's not a slut!" his niece thankfully defended although he was sure it made matters worse because before he had uttered any more words to stop the turn the conversation was taking, Caitlin's father showed up behind him. If Quatre felt mortified before, he was even more so now.

"Who's not a slut?" the deep, male voice from behind him asked. There was a certain lilt in his manner of speech that reminded Quatre of a predator who had stumbled upon something juicy. It was only a matter of time before he ran for the door in hopes of saving himself.

"I was saying that my little brother over there is particularly loose when it comes to his choice of mates," Stella thankfully provided before she sent Quatre a smug look. She laughed in her evilest woman voice, leaving Quatre to fend for himself. "Brian, call me when dinner is ready," she added as she climbed up the stairway.

Quatre did not speak and for a full five minutes braved the staring that was directed his way. His niece had a puzzled look on her face that begged for an explanation while her father stared at him with morbid interest.

"So spill, which weird-haired guy is it this time?" Brian started, leaving his position behind Quatre to gather ingredients for that night's dinner.

"Dad, they all have weird hair," Caitlin supplied with a roll of her eyes. "Heero doesn't comb his hair, Duo has way too much hair, and Chang looks like he uses his hair to decrease the blood flow to his head. Gee Uncle Quat; I didn't know you've slept with all of them."

"I haven't," Quatre said, burying his face in his folded arms.

"Does that mean you plan to?" the most annoying of the bunch asked him. He was far too amused for Quatre's liking.

"No," Quatre muttered with a muffled voice. Whatever he had to say was going to be filtered through his folded arms because he did not want to pull his head back up. His only consolation was that his horde of sisters was not present to witness it. Had there been 29 of them present, he would have been chastised, scolded, and lead to believe that he was the most immoral being in the planet. It had happened more than once already and he didn't want to relive it again.

"Hey, don't start going shy on me now. You handle all those press conferences really well for you to be hiding you face. Am I that scary?"

"No, I know someone scarier," Quatre responded, finally pulling his face off the counter. Trowa immediately came to mind. The chemist was rather persistent in getting what he wanted even if he did act like a push-over most of the time.

"It's not like I was going to talk about anything over PG-13. I do have a wife who's going to castrate me if she finds out that her daughter knows too much for her age," Brain said, trying to be helpful. He chopped some garlic before he sautéed it in melted butter. The smell coming from the pan was intense, making Quatre's senses tingle.

"That doesn't make me feel better," Quatre said while continuing to watch him cook. Brian dug a pot out of a closet and began to fill it with water while grabbing some uncooked pasta from the cupboard. It seemed that multi-tasking was his expertise.

"Dad, you're bullying Uncle Quatre," Caitlin warned before doing a little questioning of her own. "So, are you dating anyone right now?"

"No," Quatre answered as he started to feel resigned to his fate. Caitlin joined her father, helping him prepare dinner by spreading butter on some toast and dipping the buttered side on grated Parmesan cheese. Quatre figured that the cheese side would be fried later. It sounded much too caloric for his tastes.

"He's dating that guy with the weird hair," Brain answered, sending a grin his way. "It's the guy from the paper."

"What paper?" the only teenager in the room inquired. "I didn't see anyone in the paper with him."

"It was a tabloid sweetie. I'm surprised none of your acquaintances happened to pick up some of that filth. Then again, you may just be pulling the innocent act on me again."

Caitlin put a finger over her lips, signaling to Quatre that she was, in fact, aware of the picture, but chose to hide the news that she'd seen it from her father. Being right next to him and quite busy with cooking ground beef in a deep pan, Brian was unable to catch her.

"Well, anyway, you know what I'm talking about."

A beef-laden spoon was pointed Quatre's way and then placed into the pan in favor of Brian putting an upside down hand over half of his face. "Mr. Wild Hair," he specified, separating the fingers on that same hand to give it some resemblance to Trowa's actual hair.

"I'm not dating Trowa," Quatre said. He realized that there would be some issues regarding him kissing Trowa in that particular tabloid picture, but he didn't think anyone would remember or even care. After all, quite some time had passed since that incident. There had been more damaging pictures of him in the papers in the past years.

"Last I checked, you slugged the guy that accidentally laid a hand on you, so don't tell me that wasn't of your own free will. Do tell why you let that guy nibble on your mouth."

"There are kids in this room!" Quatre said quickly, hoping that it would convince the very persistent man to stop hounding him about it.

"She's 16 and I'm sure she's had her share of mouth nibbling," Brian replied which resulted in the smug look on the said child's face and a raised brow from her father. Quatre supposed that there was no way out of it.

"Trowa's going out with Heero," Quatre answered. Surely that would stop the questioning.

"What? You just gave him away?"

The more Quatre heard it from another's perspective, the more he thought about it. It did sound like he threw Trowa into the arms of someone else just so the guy would get off his back. It did seem too heartless of him, but that wasn't what he did exactly. He just wanted to get Trowa what he wanted. Trowa wanted to be in a relationship with someone. Having witnessed the chemist talk his heart out to his copulating mice a few weeks ago, Quatre found out what Trowa wanted. He hadn't been specific about who he wanted to be with, but had given Quatre a general idea of what he hoped for. As always, whatever Trowa wanted, Quatre gave resulting in a Trowa-Heero arrangement. He hoped it eased Trowa's anxiety somehow.

"I didn't give him away," Quatre said after several moments of contemplation. "He was never mine to begin with."

"Huh, that sure sounds love-struck to me Uncle Quat. Maybe you could talk Heero into giving him back to you."

Quatre then remembered Heero. He remembered the way the other had approached Trowa so affably that it scared him. Trowa had been shy and a bit reluctant, but accepted Heero's offer of a date with reserved indifference. Surprisingly, the two got along really well. It had been two weeks since he'd made the arrangement and Trowa had yet to contact him. The two were happy. He was sure of it since he'd done the direct questioning himself. Trowa had looked more content since then and had thanked Quatre for introducing them to each other. Heero had thanked him too. He supposed that as long as Trowa was happy, he would be as well.

"You know I don't have time for that Caitlin," Quatre said, fiddling with the apple his sister had thrown him earlier. He still hadn't begun chewing on it although he did go halfway through his bottle of water.

"Don't give me that," Brian had said all of a sudden. Although he looked dead serious, he was still holding on to his wooden spatula and stirring. "It's time you had a little fun of your own. You've been a working man for years now. For goodness sakes, you were reading contracts and holding business meetings by the time you were 15."

"Brian! You better not be feeding him ideas," Stella scolded all of a sudden after having appeared from the hallway. She looked murderous as she regarded her husband and then Quatre. "This heathen has done nothing but mess around. He's merely paying for his childish nonsense," she continued, digging her index finger into the side of his head.

Quatre did nothing but stare down at the counter, listening to the endless list of accusations, to all the accounts of wrongdoings he'd done since he'd been born. He felt each jab of her finger, heard each accusation thrown his way and put them all to heart. Every little detail was filed away in the corner of his mind to remind him of why he couldn't just up and leave his current lifestyle or just simply jump off a building. He never looked up again, not even to notice the disapproval radiating off his brother-in-law or the wince and look of pity coming from his niece's face.


	23. Part Twenty Three

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Three)**

"That guy was hot!"

Those were the only words Quatre received as warning before an uninvited guest barged into his office. Behind the uninvited guest, Marie made a sound of annoyance.

"Mr. Maxwell, I just told you he's busy. He'd been trying to make up for that day he took off," she said, but Duo closed the door behind her anyway.

"Sorry ma'am, but this is important," he said through the wooden barrier between them.

Quatre paid no attention to the interruption and continued crunching numbers into a well-used calculator. His other hand was writing down digits in the back of a scrap paper. If Mr. Maxwell wanted to disturb him then he figured that Mr. Maxwell would have to do a good job of it. He was behind on paperwork ever since he'd taken Trowa out for a quick vacation. Thankfully, all his meetings and appointments had been worked out, leaving nothing but tedious paper pushing to be done. Marie really was a miracle worker.

"Quat, did you know Trowa was dating?"

Quatre nodded, barely hearing what Duo had to say. He'd tried multi-tasking before, but it seemed that he was unskilled in that area. It could have done him a lot of good this time around, he realized. He was sure that Duo was not going to let up once he started.

"Now that you got that question covered... Did you know Trowa was dating a very hot man?"

Nodding again, Quatre set aside the document he was working on and picked up another. He was at what he considered his prime working condition. His concentration was completely focused on the usually mind-numbing task. He felt the rush of finishing several tasks quicker than he thought he was capable of. If Duo shut up for just ten more minutes then he was sure that he could spare the other a few minutes of listening time afterwards.

"Hey! You weren't paying attention. You do know that it's a phenomenal event when I find myself attracted to someone other than you. Wait, are you jealous? Is that why you're ignoring me? Why Quatre, you'll always be number one, but this guy is gorgeous. I mean, he's got these really blue eyes that just looked at me when I asked Trowa who he was. The guy actually kissed the freaking dork. They look so off together. It's like they don't even belong. Quat, are you listening to me? Quatre!"

"Duo, for the love of God, shut the hell up!" Quatre nearly screamed, dropping his pen heavily on his desk. The calculator did not avoid the abuse either as it was violently shoved aside. Whatever concentration Quatre had going crumbled under Duo's loud-mouthed assault. Quatre could not help but rub the palm of his hand fiercely against his face in irritation.

Duo seemed to get the point because he did shut up... for five seconds.

"Don't tell me you never noticed Trowa was seeing someone. I bet he hasn't even been hounding you lately."

"I know. I know," Quatre said in a frustrated tone of voice. "The guy Trowa's dating is someone I knew years back. His name is Heero Yuy."

"Perfect! Now I have a name to go along with that gorgeous face," Duo said, rubbing his hands together. He looked to be scheming before he abruptly stopped mid rub. It was only then that Quatre's words seemed to kick in. "Wait, you know the guy? You set them up!" Duo accused.

"I did," Quatre said with a roll of his eyes. That much should have been obvious.

Sensing that Duo's question was answered, he began to pick up where he'd left off. Now that Duo got what he wanted then maybe he'd be left alone to continue his work. Then again, it was wishful thinking. Once Duo started, he rarely stopped.

"Wait, you shoved this guy in Trowa's direction so Trowa would stop going after you? How come I don't remember you doing the same for me? Quatre, this is unacceptable! You've been unfair from the time you met that nerd. You didn't do the same for me."

"Duo," Quatre warned, picking up a pen and preparing to ignore any more distractions. "I'm sure you've heard this as a kid. You can't always get what you want."

With that, Quatre ignored Duo to calculate figures. He checked the large number that came up on his calculator and checked it against the equally large number printed on a very formal looking document. Satisfied that it matched, he moved on to reading the rest of what the document had to say.

"I can't believe you would deny me the hotness that is Heero Yuy!" Duo continued his tirade. "You could have hooked me up with someone, but no. You had to save this guy for Trowa. What kind of a friend are you?"

Whatever else Duo had to say was lost to Quatre as he read through the document. When he reached the fine print, he retrieved his reading glasses from his drawer and let it perch atop his nose. The contract was tricky and if he didn't read the excessively worded detail, he would surely find himself in debt.

"You told me to lay off him Duo," Quatre said when he finished reading the little snippet of complications printed in the smallest sized font available. He put a post-it note over the document and printed the word 'reject' on it. "As I was saying," Quatre continued. "You told me to stop trying to seduce him, so I've done the only method available to me. I found him someone else. At least Heero has been able to curb Trowa's persistence. I thought that it would make you happy in the least."

"Make me happy?" Duo exclaimed. "If the guy you set Trowa up with was dead ugly then I would have been happy. The point is, Quatre, that I'm one distracted dude. My severely undersexed, young body would like a piece of Trowa's boy."

"Duo, you are not to interfere with Trowa's affairs. He's happy with Heero and it would disappoint me to find that you are the cause of his unhappiness. Do we have that clear?"

Duo muttered something Quatre could not quite hear but figured that whatever he was muttering was already said in length earlier.

"So, no trips to the lab lately?" Duo asked after settling himself down on the couch. With the way he sprawled himself on the furniture, it was obvious to Quatre that he was not leaving any time soon. Resigned to entertaining Duo until his companion was satisfied, Quatre put his pen down and sat back on his overstuffed chair. His glasses were left perched above his nose just in case he decided Duo was too boring and he'd rather read.

"There's been no reason for me to visit the labs. Trowa has been doing an extraordinary job on those formulations."

Indeed, Trowa was improving drastically over time. He really was a genius and that was no doubt the reason why Harold, the infamous Dr. Quinn, had hired him in the first place. Then again, fewer trips to the lab meant that the weird doctor wouldn't be able to get as much data on him. It seemed that his role of guinea pig was diminishing somewhat. It felt odd, but at least he had more time to finish what needed to be done around his office. It also gave him more time to visit his sisters no matter how adamant they were of seeing him.

"Wait, but no Q30ZO either?" Duo asked next.

The question made Quatre blink. He hadn't even realized that he was running out of it. He did, however, notice that he used less of it as the weeks passed. It was a miracle that he wasn't getting any withdrawal symptoms. Still, he also had to consider the fact that he'd been far too busy to care lately. His work was starting to make its way into his home, keeping him from sleeping the necessary hours he needed. There was no reason to take something that kept him up because he was already up and running by sheer force of will.

"There has been no reason for me to use it lately," Quatre admitted. "I still have a good supply back home. Which reminds me... I got a new tie."

The change of subject, although sudden, was not his intention, but since Duo was there, he thought that he might as well take care of other matters. He retrieved his newest tie from his desk drawer and held it up for Duo to see. Duo whistled in appreciation and then chuckled when he read the little comments next to the varying sized frogs on the tie. The pure silk glimmered against the light coming from the window behind.

"You have to tell me where she gets those," Duo said. He stood up and then snatched the tie away from Quatre's hand. "I'll have to scan and program it into the system. How many ties does that make it?"

Quatre shrugged. He supposed the number of ties he now had were in the hundreds. A lot of allowance money surely went into the gifts.

"I really don't keep count," Quatre said. Duo would be more able to give an accurate number. After all, it was Duo who dressed him however strange that may have sounded. Without the other's assistance, he'd be walking around with two different shoes. He couldn't tell the difference between black and navy blue, work clothes and sleepwear.

Satisfied that Duo was busy enough to stop his incessant talking, Quatre went back to work. Picking up the next document he needed to read, he leaned back on his chair and concentrated. He was not even halfway through his first sentence when his phone went off.

"Quatre, you have a call on line 2," Marie's motherly voice called from the speakers.

"What level of importance do you think I should place on it?" Quatre asked while he continued reading. He skipped through all the formalities, made a face upon reading all the eighteenth century sounding words, and continued looking for the delicate spots in the document.

"Your caller has politely threatened to disembowel me if I didn't direct his call."

"Fine then," Quatre said with a sigh. "Put him through."

"He requests the video phone."

Quatre absently pushed a button on his keyboard without looking, before giving Marie the go signal. While waiting for a voice to disrupt him from his reading, Quatre continued with his task. Duo didn't even bother him any more, probably having found some sort of fascination with the tie he was holding.

"Winner, I demand that you put that down right now," was the half-snarled command coming from somewhere to his left. Quatre realized that the speaker was visible on his computer although he didn't care to look. He almost picked the perfect deal out of the ones he'd been reading all morning.

"Give me a sec," Quatre said without addressing the speaker. He picked up a pen, ready to sign the little dotted line at the end of the page. His name was already printed below the line, making it obvious to him where he should be signing.

"Quatre Raberba Winner, you will put that pen down and face me immediately," was the more forceful command.

"Almost... done," Quatre said while licking his lips. All the three names most recently said of were put into cursive writing. It was a hassle sometimes to have such a lengthy name.

"Holy crap! Is that who I think it is?" Duo's voice resounded from somewhere in the far corner of the room. He bounded up to Quatre's table and snatched the computer monitor so that he was facing it.

"Maxwell?" was the sudden reaction, followed by what Quatre interpreted as a sneer. "You just happened to be here when I call. What is the meaning of your insolence? Hand the vid-phone back to Quatre this instant!"

Duo reluctantly complied, shifting the monitor's position so that it was facing Quatre. Quatre was surprised when a familiar, irritated expression greeted him.

"Wufei, how nice of you to call," Quatre said, sitting up from his chair with all the formality he'd been trained to do.

Wufei's expression immediately softened.

"You don't look so good," the once angry man said, looking at him with the same look of concern he'd remembered from the day Wufei had left him.

"I seem to be getting the same reaction from various people lately," Quatre answered as he set aside his reading glasses.

"Forget him Quat. You'll always be gorgeous," Duo cheered from his position. The two simply ignored him.

"You don't look like you get any sleep," Wufei responded with a frown. "What were you reading?" he asked next, indicating the document Quatre had just put down.

"I'm trying to see if I could purchase an island for Marissa or more specifically, her boyfriend."

"The bitch!" Duo screamed indignantly, reminding Quatre of his presence.

Wufei bellowed in response.

"Maxwell! I am not talking to you. Shut your trap."

"Ooh, what are you going to do? Hit me from all the way in China? I don't think so."

"Guys," Quatre warned, acting as the pacifier whenever the two were anywhere near each other. "I would appreciate it if you didn't shout in my office."

Duo immediately withdrew whatever verbal attack he was preparing and sulked as he made his way back to the couch. Wufei smiled smugly at that and continued his conversation with Quatre.

"Somewhere in the Caribbean," Quatre specified, addressing Wufei's earlier question.

"All of the islands in the Caribbean have been sold in the past years. I see that your sisters are again demanding for the impossible."

"Islands within that area are fairly easy to come by if you show them enough money."

"They can fend for themselves. It's about time you settled with that Barton fellow."

Surprised that Wufei had brought Trowa up all of a sudden despite not knowing him personally, Quatre blinked. As far as he knew, the two were not even aware of each other's existence.

"You know Trowa?"

"I asked that Maxwell idiot you're continually associating yourself with who the guy on the paper was."

"They have that paper there?" Quatre asked incredulously. "In the provinces even?"

"I do try to keep up with news of you," Wufei sniffed, refusing to look at him. Behind him was scenery of peaceful waters, rich green hills, and regal birds gliding by gracefully. Quatre was jealous. If he looked behind him, he was sure to see tall buildings, traffic clogged streets, and tiny people swooping by mindlessly.

"You keep up with news of me by reading the tabloids," Quatre said dryly. It was thoughtful of Wufei to find out how he was doing, but whatever was written in those papers should always be found suspicious. What was it with all the talk about him in that particular picture anyway? He wondered if Trowa was having the same trouble.

"Of course I don't rely only on tabloids!" Wufei immediately said in his defense. His cheeks were slightly coloring. "Besides, you're the one being questioned here. What's happening with you and Trowa?"

Quatre sat back and massaged his temple. Just one picture and everyone seemed to jump to conclusions. He had never been with Trowa nor did he plan to. It was such a simple thing and yet nobody seemed to understand, aside from Duo at least.

"Trowa's dating Heero, a friend of mine," Quatre said. He idly counted how many times he'd said that today. Everyone was so infuriatingly curious. It almost drove him nuts.

"You gave him away?" was Wufei's immediate response.

"He wasn't mine," Quatre reiterated to the hundredth person who had reacted the same way. Trowa was not his and was certainly not a piece of meat to be thrown around. The guy was a sweetheart who was finally in a relationship with someone who appreciated him enough to spend time with him.

"It was Maxwell, wasn't it? He talked you into it," Wufei growled.

Duo was not about to back down. His once quiet companion, without warning, pounced on the monitor as if it were Wufei himself standing before him.

"Shit! It's about time you stopped blaming me for all this," Duo said, trying his best to keep his voice down upon Quatre's earlier request.

"You always do whatever you can to keep him miserable," Wufei countered. "Don't tell me that you weren't meddling when we were together. Our relationship was always plagued by your obsessive possessiveness over him. He's not yours Maxwell."

"You and I both know that Quatre is the reason why you left Quatre and that's that," Duo said next, digging his fingers into the innocent hardware vulnerably caught between his fingers. "Don't you dare tell me he didn't drive you insane. He messed us both up and you know it. There's no reason for him to drag another guy into this."

Quatre noted the bickering, but had long since chosen to continue working on the stack that was on his desk. When the two started arguing, it never stopped. They always talked as if he wasn't right there next to them, listening to everything they had to say.

"I'm a happy man now," Wufei said after a lengthy half-rant, half-reasoning by Duo. "I'm engaged."

The sudden news had Quatre dropping the latest file he'd picked up. It was certainly good news to hear that Wufei had turned out alright after all.

"Who?" Quatre asked, grabbing the monitor from Duo's grasp. He was elated that his ex had found someone.

"Her name is Sally. She's a doctor," Wufei said, looking pleased as he said it. "I was going to call you to invite you to our wedding, but I know your responsibilities Quatre. I don't want you coming here because I know those sisters of yours will skewer you. I just wanted you to know."

Quatre nodded, smiling. He didn't know why it was such a relief to hear the good news.

"I know you're busy," Wufei said after a long pause. He looked hesitant as he looked at Quatre. "I'll call you again when you're out of there," he said and then, without warning, cut the connection.

"He's probably marrying a shrink," Duo said off-handedly, leaving Quatre's office as well. At least they got the point. With no further distractions around, Quatre picked up his pen and continued to work.


	24. Part Twenty Four

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Four)**

It was amidst mindless filing when Quatre found himself distracted by a very irate voice. Surprised by the unexpected intrusion, the files he had on hand slipped from his fingers. At that time in the night, nobody save for the security personnel were around and they rarely disturbed him. Besides, nobody was usually able to sneak up on him without him noticing them first.

"It's ten o'clock!" the owner of the voice said, violently whirling him around by his shoulder so that he was forced to face the intruder. Dark, bottomless irises illuminated by the florescent lights just above their heads greeted him. Quatre blinked several times, trying to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.

"Wufei?" Quatre asked warily. His eyes narrowed into slits as he observed the equally dark hair tied into a tight ponytail by the nape of the man's neck. "Is that really you?"

"Yes."

The answer was short and straight to the point. It couldn't have been anyone else, yet Quatre could not seem to get himself to believe it.

"But you're supposed to be in..."

"I just flew in today. Had Maxwell not been with you the other day, I would have told you that I was coming for a visit. There was no sense in having him take drastic measures to stop me from seeing you."

With a surprised laugh, Quatre launched himself at the other man. Wufei was just as surprised when he found himself with an arm full of blonde. He looked apprehensive for a moment before he reluctantly put his arms around the other.

"Quatre, keep this up any longer and I won't be able to let go," Wufei said with a voice more subdued than his usual angry tone.

Quatre complied, letting go of the other man and took to observing him. It had been more than a year since he'd last seen Wufei. The man standing before him now looked just as regal as the last time he remembered him. The forever stern look on his face remained frozen that way -- save for the few instances when he regarded Quatre with serious concern.

"You used to be out of this building by eight thirty last time I remember. Even then, eight thirty was already too late," Wufei observed. He looked like he was trying his best not to scold but was failing miserably. "I didn't expect you to still be here by ten. I've been waiting outside, but when it occurred to me that you weren't planning to come down anytime soon, I decided to come up."

Wufei's pristine white shirt seemed to sparkle against the fluorescent lights above them. Nothing in his appearance was threatening, but his rigid form always looked so imposing. Quatre had always found it attractive the way he commanded respect, the way he radiated order. It gave him a sense of calm.

"What brings you here?" Quatre asked, ignoring Wufei's light scolding. He'd taken to leaving work later for various reasons, most of which had to do with spending too much time with Trowa. Now that it was no longer the case, he still felt compelled to carry on with the way he'd already been doing things.

"I hate it when you evade my inquiries," Wufei replied, foregoing Quatre's question as well. "Leave that behind. We'll walk outside where there's fresh air and _then_ I'll answer your questions."

Considering the request to be reasonable, Quatre immediately gathered his things and shrugged his jacket on before haphazardly picking up the files he'd let slip to the floor and left Marie a note for the following day. When that was all taken care of, he followed Wufei down the elevator and out the building's massive revolving doors.

The night time air was chilly as it touched his cheeks, tainting them with a light pink. Although it was cold, Quatre was grateful for the momentary, if not pseudo-meeting with nature. His last breath of fresh air, he remembered, had been at his vacation house with Trowa. That thought made his stomach flutter and his insides begin to warm.

"It wasn't because of you," Wufei said after half a block or so of walking.

Quatre considered the statement as it reached his ears. He tested the feel of those words just to see how it felt. He realized then that he had no appropriate response in mind. It felt strange to be cornered with nothing to say. Usually, he was the master of conversation.

"It wasn't you," Wufei said again when Quatre did not respond. "I apologize for leaving you without reason or warning. I was a coward. I wanted to amend things with you before I wed."

"It's not a problem," Quatre said casually, shrugging his shoulders as he considered the tone of voice of his companion. Wufei sounded remorseful and sincere, something he'd remembered hearing from years back.

"It _is,_ Quatre," Wufei reiterated, stopping abruptly. His body was rigid and his shoulders slightly hunched, giving him the look of someone who was ready to flee. "I couldn't handle you so I left you without a word. I was a coward."

"I scare everyone off," Quatre responded immediately in an off-handed manner. He felt sorry for causing his former lover so much trouble. "That's the way it is," he continued as if none of it ever mattered to him even if it did.

He'd been resigned to his fate for a while now and it was Wufei's departure that forced him to realize that he couldn't be with anyone without causing them grief.

"Stop it! You have to stop believing everything that Duo tells you."

Wufei's stiff shoulders did not slacken even a little, making him look like an angry wolf ready to pounce. The fact that he called Duo by his first name rather than his last was enough of an indication that he wasn't playing around. In the dark of night, his dark eyes looked even more bottomless than they usually did.

"I asked you to hurt me Wufei," Quatre answered just as seriously, turning around so that he was now facing his companion. "That's just as bad as begging you to kill me. And you did it. You hurt me the way I wanted you to and that frightened you."

"It didn't frighten me," Wufei corrected. "It killed me. There isn't a night when I don't remember what I did to you. And the sickest thing is that you wanted me to do it and I couldn't stop because back then, I would have done anything for you. I didn't use my head."

Quatre sighed, kicking imaginary dirt off the ground. He was ashamed of himself, of how sick he really was, but there was no way of explaining himself. Left with a delicate matter he couldn't quite address, Quatre took the conversation into a different turn instead.

"Ah, but at least I have a professional doing that kind of thing now," he said in jest. Whatever reaction it would cause, Quatre really didn't care. Wufei was free to react the way he wanted to.

"That doesn't solve the problem," Wufei answered, refusing to look at him. His cheeks were starting to get that pinkish hue that Quatre was sure was not caused by the chill of the night. Even after the number of times they'd been together, the other man was still uncomfortable talking about sex. Really, it was kind of cute. "Besides, I can't imagine where you could find yourself those kinds of people."

"Oh, Duo has connections," Quatre said, turning his back to Wufei so they could continue walking. He placed his hands behind his back, satisfied that he was able to make Wufei sputter and blush so much in the span of a few minutes.

Wufei had always been reserved, he remembered. In fact, when they had first met each other, Wufei was straight. He was as straight as they came. He was straight, proper, and traditional - the kind of guy in those painfully crafted movies that a good daughter brought home to meet her parents. He had even been married once before, losing his wife a few years later to a rare type of cancer. Wufei, in short, did not date men, except maybe him. His period of apparent gayness seemed to be momentary because he was now back to dating women.

"So, tell me about your bride," Quatre said when Wufei did not speak. He'd always wondered about the guy, what made him decide to go out with Quatre despite repeatedly claiming, even as he was getting into bed with him, that he was not attracted to men. Surely, it gave Duo several entertaining memories.

"She's the one," Wufei responded, as always, not being specific enough when he didn't feel like it. It reminded him of Heero when the other would take candid shots of him, refusing to explain what he was going to do with them. "I'll take her here with me one of these days."

"Why didn't you take her here with you now?" Quatre inquired. It was starting to get late, but since the sun had already set hours ago, it was hard to notice.

"I told her that there were some things I needed to take care of first. Now, why don't you tell me about this Trowa character?"

The change of subject was abrupt, signaling quite clearly to Quatre that Wufei wanted to discuss his situation first. Perhaps he felt responsible somehow and needed to make sure that Quatre was well before he settled down. It was sweet even if Wufei would never admit it.

"He's dating Heero," Quatre said for what seemed like the thousandth time. It bothered him that the same question had to be asked over and over again. But, it bothered him even more that he felt a deep kind of melancholy every time he answered that same question.

"Is there any specific reason why you would give your... man away to this particular character? I assume that he is trustworthy and will give this Trowa back to you when you want him to."

"Heero, trustworthy?" Quatre said with mock laughter. The guy took a picture of him playing with a puppy and the next day, he was on the news apparently kicking the adorable little thing. "I could trust him to destroy my reputation. Yeah, definitely to destroy my reputation."

"Forgive me for asking, but why him?"

"I have no friends Wufei. It would have been you, Duo, or him and since Duo just hates Trowa and you were otherwise unavailable, it had to be Heero."

"I can see how you don't have any friends. You don't leave that blasted building! You don't socialize and you only go out with Maxwell," Wufei exclaimed, performing his very first outburst of the day. Quatre predicted at least five per day.

"What does he do for a living?"

"Excuse me _mom_, but may I ask why that's necessary?"

"Just answer the question Quatre."

"Alright, alright. He's a photographer. He takes lucid, candid photos of popular figures and sells them to prevalent and not necessarily reputable newspapers for hideous amounts of money."

Wufei found it necessary to release a few choice curse words. "You really are a masochist! And I'm not even talking about you know what here. You're a masochist in every possible way. A photographer? You're associating yourself with someone who could so easily sell you out the minute you turn your back?"

Quatre shrugged. It wasn't a big deal. He supposed that he was used to people hounding him all the time that having the enemy right behind him became less of a nuisance and more of an addition to his backdrop. True, he hated it when he appeared on the news for no apparent reason so much as drinking a glass of water, but that was part of his life that was not so easy to get rid of. He was someone well-known. He believed that better him than the rest of his family. He knew a number of his nieces and nephews who would develop self-confidence problems if those predators came anywhere near them, never mind that their parents loved the attention.

"Don't make it sound like everything I've done so far is such a bad thing. I've just started to get things in order. I finally have more time to focus my attention on the more important aspects of my life, which does not include the complicated topic of relationships."

Wufei was not impressed and he showed it quite clearly with the expression on his face. Quatre had always known him to be the protective type and the man was obviously not going to let it go so easily. He wondered what was it about him that had people getting out of their way to look after him. Perhaps it was his looks that drove people to come to the conclusion that he couldn't handle a lot of things on his own. Actually, even if they _did_ know him, they still felt the urge to make sure that he was taking care of himself. Somehow it was a little cumbersome to look helpless.

"Life _is_ about relationships Quatre and not necessarily romantic relationships. The few associations you have aren't going to cut it. Maxwell has some deep, psychotic obsession with you and that photographer of yours sounds just as psychotic. Your sisters... let's not even get into that. The point is, the relationships with people you do consider relevant enough are mere excuses to cover the fact that you _don't_ have any people who you could rely on. I don't want to continue seeing you this way Quatre."

The wisdom of the old was what Quatre always considered Wufei's lectures to be about. In this particular case, he was right and it made Quatre think despite the heavy blow it came with. It made him remember Trowa because for those few moments he spent with the other, he felt a sense of security he had never found from anyone else but his deceased father.

"I don't want anything more," Quatre lied to both himself and Wufei. "Everything's the way it should be now. I don't know why you aren't satisfied."

He knew he sounded a bit on the verge of hysteria, but it was unavoidable with the way Wufei was trying to fix something that wasn't broken to begin with. Thankfully, Wufei easily got the hint and kept his mouth shut for a full minute. That was, until the atmosphere became awkward and any form of communication was preferable to silence.

"What does Trowa do?"

"He's a chemist," Quatre answered, depositing his hands into his pant pockets. It was getting colder as they walked further along. "His expertise is on vaccinations for rare diseases."

"Oh, I see where this is going," Wufei responded right away. He sighed, waving his hand in the air as if there was a bug flying in his line of sight. "Does it always have to be about the sisters?"

Looking up into the heavens to ask for help with the 'sister topic', Quatre decided to bear with the accusations a little longer. Really, his siblings really weren't that bad. They just tended to dislike him, but as human beings, they were respectable and devoted. They were normal people who loved their children and partners. They just had a nasty streak when it came to him and Quatre couldn't really blame them.

"I like Trowa not just because of the purpose he serves," Quatre answered truthfully. Somehow, it was much easier to reveal what he really thought to Wufei rather than Heero. "Trowa's gorgeous," Quatre continued. "He's a little bit on the nerdy side, but he's adorably loyal. I don't want him to be alone."

The explanation was simple and straight to the point. He wondered why it had always been hard for him to explain it to anyone else but Wufei. Being candid when under pressure was his forte.

"I don't know Quatre, I still think that this could be handled a little less... How should I say it? -- painfully? In any case, I will be here for the rest of the month. My bride to be finds my meddling in her wedding plans more annoying than helpful."

"Where will you be staying?"

"Right here?" Wufei said, pointing to the building they were approaching.

"You just took me for a walk so I could take you home, didn't you?"

Now that he thought about it, they _had_ been walking for more than thirty minutes and Wufei had been leading the way during the second half of their walk.

"It just happened to be a coincidence," Wufei answered with a smile. "Besides, you could easily walk back the way we came."

"Great, you're leaving me to walk alone in the dark. How could you be so inconsiderate?" Quatre really didn't mind, but he might as well cause a little drama while he was at it.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you could break anyone's arm if they decided to come anywhere near you. I trust you to be capable of taking care of yourself."

Quatre sighed, waving a goodbye in Wufei's direction. He was sure he'd see more of his former lover in the next few weeks. There was no telling what commotion Wufei and Duo would cause when they crossed paths, but he did miss their purposeless fights and loud banters.

Making a three hundred and sixty degree turn, Quatre walked back the way he came only to bump into someone. Actually, it was someone who smelled awfully good. It wasn't even the scent of perfume. It was the scent of really clean soap.

"Trowa?" he asked when he came to his senses.

"No, but I could be Trowa if you want me to be, baby," was the answer.

Disappointed and mildly put out, Quatre lowered his eyelids and sighed. He really hated the self-confident ones. They got on his nerves because they always thought they weren't cheesy and that he would be so easy to woo. The problem was, he would much rather do the wooing. Besides, the guy was snaking for his ass which was clearly in violation of his personal space.

"Sorry pal, Trowa's much too shy to go straight for my ass," Quatre answered before delivering a short but debilitating blow to the juncture of the man's neck and shoulder. The man crumpled to the ground like a lifeless dull. He wasn't in a particularly bad mood, so he decided that leaving the man next to the sidewalk instead of the middle of the street was best. Once that was done with, he continued walking back to his office building at a leisurely pace. Anyone else coming up to him with bad intentions was going to be taken down. At least, that was what he thought about on the way back.


	25. Part Twenty Five

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Five)**

There was a horrible, incessant poke being delivered to his side, forcing him to move away from the disturbance. He was fairly sure that it was still far too early in the morning to be up and about. The last time he blinked an eye open, he noticed that the sun was not even up.

"Five more minutes," Trowa murmured into his pillow. Absolutely nothing would deter him from sleeping another three or so hours. It was a Saturday after all and it was his God given right to sleep in.

"You promised him, remember? Now get up!"

Trowa turned to his back, away from the pillow he'd grabbed on to with his arms. There was no better wake up call than that. After all, he did promise Duo that he would go with the other to some orphanage that morning. There was something about delivering groceries, giving money, playing with kids and all that, but what he was really interested in was the part about doing Quatre a favor as so explicitly stated by Duo. Somehow, Quatre found his hands full with helping his niece pick a dress for a dance she was going to that night. Quatre couldn't go, so Duo needed a replacement.

"Heero, maybe you should go alone."

Of course, Trowa was not so naive. He noticed that Duo was really into his new boyfriend, the reason why he had invited Trowa in the first place. He knew Trowa didn't drive but that Heero did. If Trowa came, Heero would have to come on the account that they'd have no transportation. Duo did get a little sly sometimes and a bit underhanded. Too bad Heero was with Trowa and not him.

"What, are you too good for charity work?"

Trowa pursed his lips. Heero had a way of forcing him to do things, just like the way he forced the two of them together into their pseudo-relationship. Maybe it wasn't completely fake, but the way Trowa had found himself in a relationship in the span of thirty-six hours was a little suspicious. He felt like he'd been manipulated somehow. Nevertheless, Heero was a great guy and Trowa was not one to let great guys get away. Quatre had been the only exception.

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up," Trowa muttered. When he'd volunteered (or rather, when he'd been coerced) to help, he was not informed that he had to be up by five-thirty. He didn't know that Quatre and Duo did charity work at six on a Saturday morning. They could have picked a better time. Duo didn't look at all like the type to be up and running in the wee hours of the morning when he'd been dancing and drinking the night before. Quatre was a different story. He could imagine the guy running from sun up 'til sun down non-stop.

"Hurry up, we still have to pick Duo up," Heero said, picking up discarded pieces of clothing along the way. Trowa, still disgruntled from his disturbed sleep, kicked a few of them further away from Heero's reach. It was a meager form of revenge but still revenge nonetheless.

"Damn, why do you have to be such a little kid? You're like Quatre on one of his temper tantrums."

"Wait, temper tantrums?" Trowa inquired, poking his head out of the bathroom door. With a toothbrush attached to his mouth, the question was a bit hard to understand.

"Get back in there and in the shower. I've been waiting for you to wake up all morning," Heero replied, exasperated. He continued cleaning up around Trowa's room. Several clothes were deposited in the hamper before Trowa's bed began to look relatively neat. "I've already told you a dozen times before," Heero continued. "Quatre's a little brat, the devil incarnate."

"Uh uh, I don't think so," Trowa half yelled from the showers. The spray of water was making his responses difficult to hear, but he kept going because he knew that Heero would hear him anyway. The other man had an uncanny sense of hearing, just like the way he had an uncanny sense of where to be at the right time to get perfect shots of popular people. Because of that, his camera was never three feet away from him. That was something to keep in mind if they ever got into an argument.

"Trowa..."

Trowa was surprised when the shower curtain was violently pulled open, so that he felt a cold gush of wind touch his drenched skin. The only viable option was to pull the curtain toward himself to protect his skin from both the cold and the straying eyes.

"I don't know which Quatre you're talking about, but the Quatre I know is the most selfish person I know," Heero said as a matter of fact. The intense blue of his eyes showed his determination and a bit of his annoyance. It forced Trowa to agree with him on at least some level.

"Ok, so maybe he was a brat. He may have changed, you know," Trowa defended. To him, Quatre would always be perfect, always be good. If only he could explicate his claims as well as Heero always did.

"There's no changing your mind, is there?" Heero asked before leaving the bathroom.

Trowa did not answer because that much was obvious. He did feel a little dejected whenever the Quatre topic came up. In spite of everything, he still thought about Quatre on occasion and not having seen the other for almost three months was a little too much. He was hoping that the always busy man would show up at the orphanage after having miraculously finished shopping with his niece. He knew it was unlikely, but he could at least hope.

oOo

The ride from Duo's place to the orphanage had been longer than expected. Trowa was a little too delighted when they arrived at their destination because he was uncomfortable around Duo. Duo was forward, a little too forward for his tastes. It was obvious that he was attracted to Heero with the way he always reached for the other. Trowa had been shoved to the back seat without as much as a protest from him. Perhaps he needed to be a little more vocal. But then, it made him feel a little better that Heero never responded to any of Duo's advances.

"I'm here!" Duo screamed to the top of his lungs when he exited the vehicle. A number of dogs started barking and a few alley cats hissed with annoyance. Trowa looked around just to make sure that they did not end up waking up the entire neighborhood.

"Do you have to be so loud?" Heero asked. He sounded a bit irritated himself. He probably lacked sleep.

Before Duo could respond, they were greeted by an open door filled with different sized children squeezing into any space left open by a kind looking nun. She looked genuinely delighted at their arrival, but as soon as the kids figured out that Duo brought along the wrong person, war started to break out.

"Where's Uncle Quatre?" a few demanded. A pint-sized girl started to examine Trowa. It made him uneasy, especially when the little girl was joined by a few others.

"Why don't you fix your hair?" a boy barely reaching his hip questioned. He gave Trowa a disgusted look, to which Trowa shied away. Nobody had been so blunt before. The scrutiny of the children was certainly something not to be trifled with.

"Everyone, pipe down," the nun from earlier commanded while Duo started to pick them up one by one and deliver them to the inside of the house. It seemed to be a lost cause since the ones who'd made it to the inside of the house ran back out the door.

"These are Quatre's friends so you should treat them the same way you treat Quatre," the nun added. "Quatre would be very disappointed if he found out that you were disrespecting them."

"Especially that one," a tiny voice interrupted.

Trowa paused when he realized that a finger was being pointed at him and it wasn't just anyone pointing at him. It was a little girl with the deadliest set of eyebrows he had ever seen.

"Dot, you aren't targeting Trowa by any chance, are you?" Duo asked as he warily approached the little girl. Her chubby finger continued to pinpoint Trowa like an arrow dead set on its target. Dot did not answer and merely snubbed everyone before making her way to the inside of the house with as much dignity as a queen to her throne. Trowa heaved a sigh of relief.

The girl's words seemed to be the catalyst that prompted the rest of the children to behave and follow her inside. The nun immediately made sure that he was alright and assured him that all her wards were good children, if a bit eccentric at times. Trowa nodded at everything she said and followed the rest of them. It was not until they reached the front door that Duo pulled him aside. Heero decided to stay behind as well.

"Watch out for the kid," Duo warned, indicating the girl with the pointed eyebrows. "She stabbed Quatre with a fork once."

To that, Heero laughed. It was a striking contrast to the look of pure horror on Trowa's face.

"What?" Trowa said, hoping that it had been a plastic fork and hoping that she didn't turn on him next.

"I'm serious, man. The kid took a metal fork and stabbed Quatre's lower leg, right in the muscle."

Trowa winced before giving Heero a look of reprimand. Heero had no choice but to stop laughing although he still looked amused by the story of Quatre's demise.

"That must have hurt," Trowa said, shaking his head.

"Are you crazy? Of course it did! But Quatre didn't even wince, just pulled the thing out and wrapped the wound with his tie. Look, I know you guys don't have as high a tolerance to pain as Quatre does so I suggest that you watch yourselves around the kid."

"I like the kid already," Heero said, smiling as he made his way to the inside the house.

However, Trowa still felt a little wary, especially since he'd been turned into the next target as Duo had suggested earlier. Like the normal living, he wasn't quite ecstatic about experiencing pain. He wanted to make sure that he'd leave the place with all his muscles in tact. With wide eyes, he followed the rest of his companions and almost toppled over when he was surrounded my multitudes of little people.

"Good. I have buffers," Trowa said as he watched all his unaware bodyguards attach themselves to him.

For the most part of the morning, Trowa did nothing but read until his eyes bled of the tales of cows, and sheep, and various crows consuming pie. By the time he had finished every story in his chosen book, Mother Goose was crying with the way he'd butchered her character's voices. Nevertheless, he was able to calm himself down. The infamous child, Dot as she was called, was lying low giving him reason to be a bit more carefree. He did enjoy the energy that came from the children and imagined Quatre in his place. After all, it was Quatre's place he was taking over. It made him smile imagining Quatre reading with all the silly voices.

"Trowa, do me a favor and get the groceries from the trunk of the car," Heero said, interrupting his musings.

"Uh, sure," Trowa said quickly, catching himself before he started daydreaming again.

It seemed that Quatre was a very easy source of distraction. As much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't. He supposed that Duo was right when he said that Quatre was someone who was hard to get over. He was always there, lingering at the back of his mind. Sure, he was with Heero now and Quatre had turned him down more than once before, but there was at least a little bit of hope that Quatre would change his mind someday.

"Yeah, like that will ever happen," Trowa muttered, swinging Heero's keys in his index finger as he made his way to the parked car.

"Maybe it could happen if you wish hard enough."

Trowa jumped, unsure of where the voice was coming from. It had been the second time that day and it was really beginning to scare him.

"Trowa Barton, I presume," the little voice said, forcing him to look down. At the length of his waist, he saw a strikingly little girl run her hands through golden strands the same color as Quatre's. The hair was long and combed as was the definitive eyebrows that broke its path halfway down the line.

"I, uh... Yes, that would be me," Trowa answered uneasily. He'd been more scared earlier. Now, he was just intimidated. Despite looking around nine, the girl spoke and carried herself like an adult.

"Dorothy Catalonia although everyone calls me Dot. I'm pleased to meet you," she continued with the same air of regality. "Quatre has told me a lot about you."

Trowa's uncertainty turned into curiosity. Quatre talking about him was a great honor.

"Really?" Trowa asked, wondering just what Quatre told her about him.

"Really," she echoed. "You _are_ quite handsome."

Trowa tried to control himself. It was a little embarrassing to blush in front of this child.

"I can tell that he likes you."

"He... talks to you about me?"

Little Dot gave him a light laugh, flinging her long hair backwards in the process. She seemed amused by his sincerity, in the way he was so uncertain and yet giddy with secret delight.

"You're all he talks about," Dot answered him. Trowa felt his stomach flutter. It may have been his lack breakfast, but then again, it may have been something else. "It wouldn't hurt you to visit him, you know. He misses you."

"Did he really say all that?" Trowa asked with surprise. He'd thought that Quatre thought of him as a useless distraction who concocted vaccines for his sisters. At least that was the message he got whenever Quatre refused him.

"No. But it's obvious whenever he talks about you," Dot answered. She giggled, finally letting out the little girl in her, making her look more her age.

"Wait, I have to know... did you really stab him?"

Trowa took a chance. The girl who seemed familiar with Quatre surely did not do as Duo had said. Although she looked threatening, she seemed too dignified for such an act. She seemed so smart too, like the type that would be beyond such brutality. Besides, she was a kid. There was no way she could have done something that horrible.

"If you have to know, I did stab him."

The answer was so clear Trowa almost did not believe it.

"But why?"

"He was falling asleep," she answered. Her response was childlike and innocent. There was no malice in her tone of voice.

"He was falling asleep?" Trowa tried to confirm.

"He was running out of medicine."

Taking a step back, Trowa thought about it further. Medicine? The girl must have been talking about Q30ZO. He always knew there was something wrong with the formulation. A lack of it would paralyze its recipient for a certain period of time. For the little girl to snap Quatre out of it with a stab - it was a little overboard but it did do the trick.

"You knew?"

"I also know that he feels sorry," she continued.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes getting hurt because he's sorry for all the things he's done. He tells me that it's never enough and that he hopes that someday, he'll be forgiven and that you'll accept him for who he is."

Trowa was unsure whether the child knew what she was talking about. The words did, however, hit Trowa right in the gut. He felt shamed for not realizing it sooner. Of course, Quatre couldn't have possibly enjoyed all the brutality he witnessed in that hotel room that day. All the cuts and the bruises became so vividly painted in his mind. Quatre wanted to get hurt as his form of repentance. It may have been too extreme, but it was a plausible reason. From the first time he examined Quatre's eyes, all he could see was a shining pool of blue and green that was probably filled with feelings of guilt.

"Tro, what's taking so long? Need help with the groceries?" Duo arrived not five seconds later with Heero right behind him. "Woah, you didn't scare him off, did you, Dot?"

"Nope," Dot responded before merrily making her way to the inside of the house.

"Honestly, Heero, I think that kid's evil. Look. She spooked Trowa out. Now he won't snap out of it. Trowa? Hey, Trowa?"

"That must be it," Trowa said, unmindful of what his companions thought.

"What must be it?"

Quatre felt responsible and he was compensating for whatever it was he thought he lacked by disregarding himself. It was that simple and all that time, Trowa couldn't figure it out. He had to fix the problem somehow.

"I need to see Quatre," he blurted out. He knew Heero was with him but there was no reason for him to hide it. Heero knew how he adored Quatre. The question was - why did Heero not mind? Did Heero really not care about his adoration or did he have something else in mind. Perhaps he was being used to get back at Quatre for something. If so, Heero probably mentioned it offhandedly a few times before, but there was so much going on in his mind that he didn't even want to think about it.

"We'll try to find him Trowa. Snap out of it. I'll contact him as soon as we get back," Heero assured him. "Either that or he's roaming around that lab of yours anyway."

"Geez, this is so messed up," he heard Duo say. "You sure she didn't poison you or anything?"

Trowa shook his head, helping his two companions bring the groceries into the house. All the while there was only one thought on his mind - he really did miss Quatre a lot.


	26. Part Twenty Six

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Six)**

"Oh get over yourself."

"No, _you_ get over yourself."

Trowa sighed as he continued to listen to the banter. After enduring the suffering of listening to Quatre's former lovers, he supposed that he deserved a reward, something along the lines of having Quatre all to himself for a whole day. However, it didn't look like it was going to be happening anytime soon. It seemed that once Heero decided to do something, he became so set on doing it that he would forget all else just to fulfill it. Too bad Heero decided to help him get a hold of Quatre.

"Stop fighting! You two sound like children."

On the video phone was someone he'd just met only a few minutes ago. Wufei Chang, apparently another once stunted lover of Quatre's, was decidedly irate. Not only did he seem very much in conflict with Duo, he also was gaining a new enemy by getting on Heero's nerves.

"You call this fighting?" Heero responded. "What do you call your little quarrel session with this guy over here just five minutes ago?"

"If you haven't already noticed, trash photographer, I do not get along well with Maxwell," Wufei said with his head held high. It looked almost impossible for Quatre to have been with a guy like him. Trowa could only wonder what other kind of people Quatre associated himself with.

"Trash photographer? I'll have you know I take magnificent shots. I make common people look like stars."

"Really," Duo chimed in. "Heero, maybe you should show me a couple of them sometime."

"Stop acting like a love-struck idiot Maxwell. It's making me sick."

"Hey, who do you think you are?" Duo responded heatedly, to which Heero looked at them with disgust.

Trowa could only sit at his corner and continue to watch the war between the three men. None of them were getting along long enough to come up with a plan. They were supposed to be helping him and instead, they were helping their own causes.

"Uh, could we get back to what we were talking about earlier?' Trowa interrupted. His meek voice had somehow gotten through the thick ambiance of anger and resentment and it only took ten minutes for it to happen.

"Ah, yes, that's right." Wufei was the first to respond. "You wanted to meet with Quatre, was that right?"

Trowa thought he sounded a little condescending for some reason, but it wasn't his primary concern at the moment.

"Wait, didn't I just say I wasn't helping with this nonsense?" Duo said before Trowa was able to respond. "Give it up Tro. Quatre doesn't want you. You're just an added burden."

Despite having heard it from Duo before, Trowa was still hurt. He didn't think his co-worker would so mercilessly dig it in when it was already so apparent. Nevertheless, he still wanted Quatre. He'd never been obsessed with anyone as much as he'd been obsessed with the busy businessman and part-time thief. Thankfully, he had at least one ally.

"Huh, I see that statement was coming from someone who hadn't had any luck getting Quatre to love him back," Wufei said with a smirk.

"Shut up!"

"The nerve of that guy," Heero muttered, referring to Quatre. "I figured he really was a selfish brat, always disregarding others."

Trowa dearly wanted to get a word in, but all three of them wanted to keep on talking about themselves. Fine, so Quatre was all that to them, but he was someone entirely different in Trowa's eyes. He was a lost cutie waiting to be delivered to his oh-so-loving arms.

"Heero, was it? Could it be that you are also one of the rejected?" Wufei questioned, which Trowa thought was a bad idea only because it would start another argument.

"At least I didn't escape the relationship halfway through."

The three way battle continued while Trowa counted the minutes. After two hours, it was getting tiring. His lovely Quatre was moving farther and farther away from his grasp. If he knew exactly when his favorite thief would strike, he would have waited at the appropriate labs, but as it was, Duo was being stubborn. The computer technician was refusing to give him any information. Trowa supposed that despite being so infatuated with Heero, Duo still had a sweet spot in his heart for Quatre and it was that possessiveness that made him stubborn.

"Quatre wants him. He's just being obstinate," Wufei declared after a rather lengthy discussion of what and who Quatre really wanted.

"Thank you, Wufei," Trowa said out loud without realizing it. It earned him looks of surprise from both Duo and Heero who had taken refuge on his couch.

"Err, I mean..."

"That's right. Stand up for yourself," Wufei encouraged him. Even when it was only his image that came forth from the video phone, his presence seemed very tangible.

Trowa looked down at his hands. If he had a choice, he would have kicked his two guests out of his apartment long ago and shut the phone. All he wanted now was time to himself. Still, there was work to be done. It wasn't everyday that he got an opportunity to talk with Quatre's former lovers. It was his chance to learn from their mistakes. However, he wouldn't dare voice the thought out loud. There was no telling how many enemies he would gain by doing so.

"I'd... I'd at least like to hear what each one of you has to say about him," Trowa said. "Please. No interrupting. Duo, you first."

"Fine," Duo said with a huff. It was obvious that he was still a little annoyed. "Quatre was my first. I was deeply in love with him."

Heero made a gagging sound.

"I said no interruptions," Trowa said more forcefully than he thought himself possible.

"Like I was saying," Duo continued. "He was my first. Everything was just fine until he picked up that really freaky masochistic tendency of his. Once Quatre figured out I couldn't handle it, he broke it off with me. It's that simple."

"It's interesting you would say that when he probably picked up the habit from you," Wufei observed. He looked quite the expert as he smirked.

"What are you, a shrink? How dare you blame me for that!" Duo responded with anger. While he didn't take all their earlier disagreements seriously, he seemed to be affected by this one in particular. It made Trowa wonder if what Wufei said was true.

"You were his first," Wufei responded. The two simple words caused Duo to readily admit his fault.

"I was eighteen. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I don't know how you expect me to know about lube and all that," Duo said in his defense. "How was I to know that he'd get ideas from my mistakes?"

Duo looked embarrassed; something Trowa didn't ever remember seeing. He knew that had it been him in Duo's position, he would have been shamed as well. He'd also blame himself for it just the way Duo was doing. The computer technician didn't admit it, but the look on his face said it all. Little by little, Trowa began to understand Duo's reasons for accommodating all Quatre's out of this world requests - like Bjorn the gorilla for instance.

"Quatre's masochistic? You don't mean hedonistic do you?" Heero said. Trowa could tell that he was merely trying to save the situation by allowing Duo to save face. Thankfully, Wufei got the idea and cooperated.

"I don't know if masochistic is the word I would use, but that is one point I must agree with him on," Wufei said, this time agreeing with rather than antagonizing Duo. "It's rather... frightening when he gets serious about it. His guilt is far too deep. I was ineffectual in trying to convince him otherwise. I found him too difficult to handle, so I left or rather, he told me to leave."

"In other words, he broke it off with both of you," Heero concluded.

Trowa remained silent. It sounded a lot like what had happened to him except that he didn't get the luxury (or horror depending on who evaluated it) of actually being in a relationship with Quatre. It was unfair. Trowa felt cheated. Was he so inadequate that he'd been rejected so easily or was Quatre just too tired to deal with anyone altogether? The three did sound like a handful after all. Just listening to them bicker made his head hurt

"I knew him when we were kids, but we hadn't been acquainted for very long," Heero said when no one else began talking. "I'd always hated him for as long as I can remember. I was there when his father died, taking photographs for the school newspaper. We met at the funeral. He was a cute kid with the attitude of a stuck-up brat."

"People change, you know," Duo murmured although not loud enough to interrupt what Heero was saying. The frown on his face was not hard to miss.

"I suppose you could say that we didn't leave on good terms," Heero continued. He looked almost sorry, but the way he spoke his words said otherwise. Trowa knew that he wasn't going to extrapolate further. With Heero, it was probably as much as anyone could get out of him.

One word came to Trowa's mind when he considered their stories. They may have been dissimilar people, but they did share one aspect, the aspect of being rejected. He couldn't blame Heero or Wufei. In fact, he couldn't even get himself to blame Duo for his possessive streak. Quatre was addictive, unintentionally cruel, and keenly aware of the effect he had on all of them.

"Your family," Wufei said when Heero finished his piece. "You mentioned earlier that you won't be available this weekend because you had a family gathering. Trowa, has he met your family?"

Trowa rubbed his chin. Family? He'd never even thought of it.

"But why?" Trowa questioned. He couldn't understand what showing Quatre the odd bunch he called his family would achieve. If anything, he might be turned off because his family consisted mostly of the weirdoes of society - not that he was ashamed of them or anything. They were just a little different.

"He's a sucker for that kind of thing," Duo chimed in, his mood picking up from earlier. "You know I hate you Wufei, but sometimes you come up with the most ingenious plans."

"Why thank you."

Trowa thought he saw the beginnings of camaraderie, but changed his mind when he noticed Duo stick his tongue out. At least they were becoming a little more agreeable.

"Quatre has a thing with families. He can't turn them down no matter how busy he is - probably because his own family's as messed up as it is."

"Is it escapism?"

"No, more like concern."

"I call it psychosis."

The three were very easy to distract, but Trowa tried to keep it together. Getting the three to agree on anything was very rare and he didn't want to miss that opportunity.

"Can't we just call him right now?" Trowa suggested. He wanted to direct their attention to the more important matter at hand.

"Maxwell should be able to handle that."

"Like hell I will," Duo said. Trowa didn't expect anything less from him.

"Just do it," Heero said with a lot less enthusiasm than Trowa would have wanted. He seemed bored as he sat on the couch picking at his fingernails.

"Why do _I_ have to do it?"

"Quatre doesn't communicate with anybody else."

To that, Duo gave them all a smug look. He crossed his arms in an almost too satisfied way.

"Call him," were Wufei's final words before he cut the connection. Only the static of an empty video screen was left on the monitor.

Heero and Trowa looked at Duo, expecting him to do just that. Duo, however, decided to be difficult as he played with the end of his braid. Trowa could tell that he didn't want to do it and for the first time since Duo started driving him away from Quatre, Trowa felt angry. He felt angry enough to throw his co-worker the nastiest glare he could achieve. He wasn't a very violent person, so Trowa decided to save the punches for more serious confrontations.

"It's not working," Heero said dryly when he noticed Trowa's ineffective look of doom. He rolled his eyes before sighing loud enough for them to hear. Trowa could do nothing but send him the look of despair he always liked to use against his sister. Luckily, Heero easily gave in.

"Look," Heero said as he nudged Duo's leg with his foot. "If you get Quatre to come to the family gathering, I promise to act like your date."

Duo's ears seemed to perk up at the offer.

"Promise?" he said. His large set of eyes seemed to widen with the question.

"Yes, but just at the gathering," Heero replied. He looked at Trowa for confirmation. Trowa easily agreed.

"But wait, you're supposed to be with Trowa," Duo said. He looked confused but not delighted about it either. "Are you two really just pretending to be together? Last time I checked, people don't give away the people they're with... unless... Are you two friends with benefits?"

Trowa chose not to answer and handed Duo the keypad instead. It was easier if Duo stopped coming up with ideas and did what he was told. It saved him and Heero the trouble of explaining what their relationship really was.

"Just call," Heero said and like an obedient puppy to his favorite master, Duo did just that.

Trowa and Heero picked a hiding spot, just in case Quatre suspected that they were scheming. There was no use inviting Quatre when he already knew he was walking into a trap.

"Hey, Quat," Duo said when Quatre picked up his end of the vid-phone. He looked busy as he wrote something down without looking at the video monitor. Even from his awkward angle, Trowa readily stared at the object of his desires. It had been far too long since he'd last seen Quatre and he wanted to allow his eyes a little treat.

"Hmm," Quatre sounded. He was obviously paying attention to something else.

"Quatre, want to meet Trowa's family?" Duo asked. Trowa was surprised when Quatre immediately looked up as if honing in on their secret.

"Hey handsome, I know what you're thinking," Quatre said. Just like that, he'd figured it out. It was obvious that Quatre was referring to Trowa and no one else. "...Might as well expose that gorgeous face of yours so I could get a better view."

Duo seemed insulted as he poked at the video monitor.

"Hey! It's me you're talking to," Duo said with a frown. "Unless I'm the one you're calling handsome," he continued with a wag of his eyebrows.

It was Trowa's turn to frown. He knew that message was meant for him and not Duo. He wanted to protest, but he continued to stay in his hiding place. Heero just continued to look bored.

"When?" Quatre said, effectively dodging the question. "When would you like me to come?"

"How about this Saturday?"

Trowa watched as Quatre closed his eyes, just like the way he'd done a number of times before. He could tell that Quatre was accessing his mental schedule, figuring out just which time slots were empty. Trowa would be so lucky if there was even any space left.

"No," Quatre said still with his eyes closed. "How about Sunday... after lunch?"

Trowa nodded when Duo looked sideways to check with him.

"Yeah, Sunday is fine," Duo responded.

With the meeting confirmed and marked down in his mental schedule, Quatre opened his eyes.

"Trowa, what do you want me to bring?" Quatre said without looking at Duo. Trowa continued to remain persistent in his hiding and did not answer.

"He just wants you to bring yourself," Duo answered for him.

Quatre looked disappointed as he looked toward his hiding spot. He knew exactly where he was. Still, Trowa refused to show himself. He didn't know what possessed him to deny Quatre of his presence. Perhaps he felt like punishing the other for avoiding him for too long.

"Why won't you let me see you?" Quatre asked next.

"Probably because he's mine," Heero answered the question, revealing himself from his hiding spot. He sat next to Duo and put his legs up on the table. If it was Heero's idea of upsetting Quatre then Trowa did not approve.

"When you give away someone," Heero continued. "You're supposed to give them away completely. Otherwise you're just a selfish brat who's keeping his back-up lover close."

Quatre did not respond to the provocation and instead ended the conversation.

"See you Sunday Heero," he said dryly. It was the last Trowa saw of Quatre that day. It made him more excited about spending time with his soon-to-be lover the coming weekend. He only hoped Catherine and the rest of his family would be cooperative and not scare him away.


	27. Part Twenty Seven

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Seven)**

Trowa checked himself in the mirror. He looked his best. His body was washed, scrubbed, and as clean as he could get it. His teeth were brushed and whiter than he'd ever seen them. His clothes were fresh off the dryer, properly pressed, and tastefully hand-picked. But most of all, his dead stare remained perfectly in place with his hair arranged in the same eccentric fashion Quatre seemed to like.

"Trust me. I couldn't have done it any better myself."

Looking at Heero, Trowa raised a perfectly combed brow.

"You didn't have the same opinion earlier this morning," Trowa reminded him.

"That's because you were fussing like a chick in heat," Heero responded dryly before exiting his vehicle.

"...probably because I _am_ in heat," Trowa murmured to himself. He checked his face one last time before following Heero out the vehicle trying to remember what Quatre liked best about him. If he remembered correctly, Quatre liked him clean. Nothing else came to mind.

"Woman approaching at three o'clock," Heero warned just as he made it out of the car. Before Trowa could check who it was, he was immediately tackled by said woman. When Catherine greeted, she greeted with fervor. It wasn't long before he had a hand full of sister and a perfect view of the clouds above. He really needed more bulk to withstand her very jovial greetings.

"Cathy," Trowa greeted in return before getting up and helping her to rise as well. "It's good to see you again."

"Good to see me? It's been ages since I last saw you. Who's this hunk over here?" his sister said, directing her thumb at Heero.

"He's Heero. We're together."

Catherine shook Heero's hand in greeting although she looked at him with suspicion. Heero, being as he was, gave no heed to the look directed his way.

"You change interests pretty quickly Trowa," she said while continuing to shake Heero's hand. "Where's the blonde?"

Trowa was wondering about that as well. For some reason, he had a very paranoiac feeling that Quatre had been kidnapped by Duo and brought to some place far away where people like Bjork the giant could prey on his favorite bundle of love. He could only hope that Duo kept his part of the deal. Besides, Heero had made a deal with him he couldn't refuse.

"The blond whom you speak of," Heero said, catching Trowa off guard. "He's right over there."

Trowa hadn't noticed Quatre's arrival, but he did make it just in time to see him exit the familiar convertible. Duo merely served as background as Trowa stared in their direction. There was just something about abstinence that made the heart yearn fonder and he was definitely yearning for more Quatre. He unconsciously licked his lips.

"That over there is the target," Heero pointed towards Quatre's approaching figure. Duo looked too energetic as he followed close behind him. "And your brother over here is the pervert that wants him."

Trowa looked mortified as Heero talked about him so openly to his sister. Catherine giggled in that girly way he always found disturbing. She sent him a look that said that she wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"I'm just... interested," Trowa said in his defense. It was certainly not the place to be found out. The pseudo-family he traveled with as a child was composed of the most rambunctious, blood-sucking gossipers in the planet. In fact, they were probably already discussing their evaluations of Heero the moment they arrived.

"Oh, sure you are," Heero said in the same dry way he always spoke. Being the professional photographer who never seemed to leave his job behind, he asked permission from Catherine to take pictures of the circus family's makeshift home for the next few months. Trowa couldn't blame him. Their decorations were so colorful; one couldn't help but stare as if to absorb the radiance emanated by the varying tints.

Meanwhile, Trowa was busy preparing himself. Quatre was but a few steps away.

"If you were only interested, you wouldn't be moving around so much," his sister commented. Only then did he notice that he'd been walking around Catherine, circling her like some madman. "You almost look like our collection of beasts," she added.

"I guess," Trowa responded, finally stopping his nervous walk. "I guess I'm just excited to see him again," he admitted, making sure that he was staring anywhere but at her face. She could read him like a book. It was embarrassing enough as it was.

"Mmm, that confession sounded awfully sexy," someone purred into his ear. The voice was so seductive that it made him stand stock still.

Trowa blinked and then turned before he was ambushed by such a beautiful scent, the scent of clean soap. It could only have belonged to one person.

"Quatre," he said like a stupefied oaf. He didn't even notice Quatre closing in on him. He only realized that Quatre had been standing behind him for a while now when he noticed Duo already attaching himself to a busy Heero. "Uh..."

Quatre saved him the trouble of finding the right words by introducing himself to Catherine.

"Quatre Winner," he said, holding his hand out in greeting. "And who might you be?"

Catherine was looking at the both of them oddly because Trowa couldn't control the fidgeting that came with being around Quatre after so long. He felt giddy enough to almost give his long-time obsession a gigantic bear hug.

"Trowa's sister," Catherine answered. "You may call me Cathy," she said.

Her look of mild suspicion turned into recognition as she suddenly pointed at Quatre.

"Now I remember you," she said, continuing to point. "You're the guy from the papers," she said a little too excitedly. "Why aren't you with my brother?" she asked next. When it came to her, enthusiasm always tended to be followed by guarded concern for her brother. Quatre seemed to notice this and indulged her.

"He's too good for me," Quatre said with a tiny smile that was meant to divert her attention away from the real question. He did so love to manipulate. Trowa noticed that his plan worked because after the smile, Catherine asked no other prying questions. She was too busy staring at him. Trowa only hoped that she wasn't planning on stealing him. They were siblings and just because she was older didn't mean that she got first pick.

"Oh my, the pictures don't do you justice," she said, before fawning over him. It wasn't fair. Trowa wanted Quatre all to himself. Not for the first time, he damned the higher powers for making Quatre so hot that hopeful partners had to compete over him.

"Quatre," he said interrupting Catherine's head to toe evaluations. "Let me show you something," he suggested without knowing what exactly he was going to show the other. He just wanted to keep Quatre to himself for the time being, especially since Duo was too busy to notice them. He had to thank Heero later for distracting the too-possessive friend and former lover.

"Hmm," Quatre answered as he was pulled to the inside of one of the larger tents. "Isn't there some kind of festival going on? Duo mentioned something about that."

"Uh, sure," Trowa answered, trying to figure out what he should show his companion. There were many aspects of the circus that were quite interesting, but his brain was not processing any information at the moment. He supposed that it was caused by Quatre's hand in his. The romantic oaf in him signaled him to the fact that the hand holding, although a very kiddy, first grade kind of thing, was very, very good.

"Wait, Trowa," Quatre called out when he continued to pull him around aimlessly. It was a little dark, but Trowa knew where he was going. However, his companion was stumbling around due to the large amounts of unarranged materials scattered around the area. "I can't see where--"

Trowa blinked when he heard the wind blown out of Quatre.

"Oops," he said as he attempted to help him back up to his feet. The problem was that he couldn't pull Quatre back up because Quatre was staring, quite literally, into the mouth of a lion. The fingers that were grasping on to the metal cage were mere inches away from the lion's open mouth. Trowa could not tell what the expression on Quatre's face was, but he did realize that he shouldn't have brought him in there in the first place. The fiercest of their collection of animals hated new faces and Quatre was very much within the category. The beast's discontent was obvious with the way he roared.

"Calm down, Chubby," Trowa said, wincing at the odd name of the ferocious beast. He'd given the beast the name when he was four not really imagining how much it would grow over the years.

Trowa tried his best to pry Quatre's fingers off the cage but the other wouldn't let go. He dearly hoped that Quatre wasn't into that kind of thing because Chubby could really maul if he wanted to and Quatre probably weighed just as much as the lion's head alone.

"Quatre," Trowa warned with a pull. "Chubby doesn't like guests," he said right before Quatre reached his arm out to the still very angry beast. By that time, the commotion inside caught the attention of everyone outside. Being in shock, Trowa could no longer tell what was going on. All he could hear were droned out sounds of people screaming and Duo's very angry voice scolding him.

Then, just like that, Chubby stopped roaring. Trowa blinked, looking at the almost white hand still clutched tight onto Quatre's bicep. It gave him time to digest the situation and realize that Quatre's earlier response had been one of curiosity. He looked genuinely amazed as he stroked his hand along the lion's mane. Chubby seemed to like the action because he almost purred in response.

"What the hell man?"

Trowa turned to find Duo's angry face within mere inches of his own. It made him wonder which was scarier, Duo or the beast he was well acquainted with.

"You know the guy's," Duo said, unable to voice out what he wanted to say. Instead, he let an index finger circle around the side of his head. He was trying to tell him that Quatre was crazy when it came to those things. Trowa was well aware of it. Only, he couldn't stop it. He was only grateful that Chubby had made an instant liking to Quatre.

"Ok," Cathy said, a bit taken back herself. With the sound of her voice came the sigh of relief held back by the various members of his troupe. "I think now that most of us has escaped a minor heart-attack, maybe we could start the festivities."

"Festivities?" Trowa asked, not really knowing what it was about. The last time he checked, there was no such thing. He looked around to ask for an explanation when he came across Heero. His current lover was shaking his head in dismay. Trowa almost hit himself on the head. He'd forgotten that it was the excuse to have Quatre come over.

"Oh, yeah," he said slowly, finally letting go of the death grip he had on Quatre. "Where do we start?"

"Why the strawberry-eating contest of course," Cathy answered with a wink. Trowa didn't think that he liked where it was going.

Moments later, he found himself alone as Quatre was pulled, along with the rest of the crowd, to the outside of the tent. He looked around him, trying to get his bearings. Although a minor incident, he'd been truly worried about Quatre.

"Never put him next to something dangerous," Duo said suddenly appearing from behind him. Trowa almost jumped in surprise.

"But I--," Trowa tried to explain before he was cut-off.

"Give him five more minutes and he would have locked himself inside with the thing," Duo said, pointing at Chubby who began roaring anew. It seemed that Chubby didn't like Duo that much. "Would Quatre love a lion chewing on his arm? Why yes, very much. In fact, it's a dream come true. Thank you for asking," he continued. "Now that that's over with, I might as well enjoy the made-up festivities."

Just like that, the serious expression on Duo's face was replaced with one of delight as he nearly ran outside the tent to take part in any goings-on outside. Trowa sighed before following him. He really had to watch out for Duo sometimes. The guy was terrifying when he was being over-protective.

"Interesting," someone whispered into his ear when he'd made it out the tent. The sun was glaring painfully at his face, but he knew who was approaching him this time. "You're not with the person you want, but with another hunk that's just as good."

"Cathy, it's not what you think it is," he whispered back at her, hoping that nobody else could hear them.

"It's exactly what I think it is Trowa Barton," she responded, turning him by his shoulder to face her. "It isn't very nice to Heero either. That's what I would have said if I didn't see the other guy with the long hair attaching himself to your supposed guy. There is something suspiciously wrong going on here and I'm going to find out."

"You don't really need to--"

Trowa did not get to finish his statement because before he got to explain anything in a way that would have cleared the matter up, something was plastered into his face.

"Remember this?" Cathy asked playfully.

When Trowa examined the foreign object once stuck on his face, he was mortified to find a picture of himself as a toddler.

"You wouldn't," he said.

"Oh yes I would," she responded.

Trowa had to look at the picture again. There was no way he was going to let anyone, much less Quatre, see it. It had been taken years ago, years ago when he was an unaware, defenseless child. He'd been collecting the baby cubs back then and placing them in his little wagon for a ride around the circus tents. It would have been a good picture save for the fact that he was butt naked. Staring back at him from the picture was a younger version of him, rear-end exposed and glaring angrily at the picture-taker. In his hand was the handle of the red wagon with three newly born cubs inside. Sure, Catherine thought it was cute, but he thought that the negatives should have been burned the moment he had the chance.

"Tell you what," Cathy said next, sounding like she was going to offer a compromise. "Join the contrived strawberry eating contest, also known as my little experiment, and win," she said. "And that cute blonde won't get a copy of this picture."

"Fine," Trowa said immediately. He didn't waste any time trying to find where the event was being held. His dignity was at stake.

When he arrived at the scene of the contest, he was surprised to find a number of people already paired up and waiting. Immediately, he honed in on a distressed Heero who had probably been forced into joining as one of the contestants. He was not surprised to find Duo standing in front of him and serving as his partner. At least those two had settled down. The problem was that he still had to find his.

"Over at the back of the tents," Cathy said when she noticed his difficulty in finding someone free.

"What?"

"Trust me," she said, moving toward the center of the crowd where she would be hosting the event.

Trowa followed her advice and found his sweetie just where she said he would be. Quatre looked distressed himself as he talked with urgency on his cell phone.

"But I can't leave. I just got here," he explained to whoever it was at the other end of the line. Trowa heard some really nasty screaming in response. It was obvious that he was being scolded. "Ok, I'll be there as soon as I can," he said before he ended the call.

Deciding that he best not interrupt Quatre's tired sigh, Trowa made a move to leave, only to alert Quatre to his presence by accidentally tripping over his own feet.

"Hey handsome," Quatre said tiredly when he noticed him. "Anything I could do for you?"

"Umm, nothing really," Trowa replied. He didn't know how to save the awkward situation, so he stared at his feet instead.

"Let's go," Quatre said, probably trying not to worry him. "I might as well have a little fun before leaving, right?" he said with an apologetic smile. He really looked like he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Umm, ok," Trowa said as he allowed himself to be lead. He was almost enjoying the companionable silence when his name was called from the loud speakers.

"Trowa, find a partner yet?" Cathy nearly yelled from her microphone. Trowa cringed at the sound of it.

"You need a partner?" Quatre asked in surprise. It was right before he saw Heero and Duo in a very compromising position. In an instant, his eyes turned into slits. Only then did Trowa remember that Quatre knew nothing about their arrangement. Like Cathy, he believed that he was with Heero. It made things more complicated because Duo now looked like the venomous third party.

"That's--" Trowa tried to explain before he was cut off for the third time that day.

"Someone needs to be taught a lesson," Quatre said before tugging on his arm and delivering him straight to the event stands. "I told him to stay away from Heero. Heero's yours," he said with a slight growl.

Not before long, Trowa found himself in a seat similar to Heero's with his arms being tied to either side of the chair. He could only look around in confusion as he watched the 'staff' tie Quatre's hands behind his back. What did a strawberry eating contest need all the restraints for?

"What's going on?" he asked nobody in particular. The only response he received was the sound of a shot gun. He looked to the person beside him and then to the further right where Heero and Duo were to survey what was going on. He noticed Duo dunk his face into a basin of what looked like milk before he revealed a strawberry between his teeth. The strawberry was then fed to Heero by mouth before the green end of the fruit was spit into an empty bowl.

"Oh," he said before realizing what that meant. Trowa swore his face turned as red as the strawberries. He looked consciously up at his partner to find a strawberry already delicately placed between the other's lips. Surely he wasn't going to be able to sleep peacefully tonight because the exact image of Quatre would be imprinted in his head.

Quatre jerked his head forward as if warning him that the fruit was coming in. When Trowa refused to cooperate, Quatre immediately placed a knee between his legs and leaned forward. Immediately, the blood rushed to other unmentionable parts of Trowa's body. Deciding that it was best to win lest Quatre receive a copy of his embarrassing photo, Trowa took the fruit from Quatre's mouth. Like magic, the top of the strawberry was left untouched. Quatre blew it to the empty bowl with all the grace Trowa had ever imagined of him.

"Trowa, I'm dripping," Quatre said after, not making a move to pick up another strawberry. "I don't like being dirty."

"What the hell?" Trowa squeaked, reminiscent of Duo's typical expressions. Milk was dripping down Quatre's chin and flowed down toward his slightly exposed chest.

"Clean it up," Quatre commanded and only then did Trowa realize that his hands were tied up.

"Oh, what do we have here? Quatre and Trowa are in last place!" Cathy yelled into her microphone. The announcement was followed by a sadistic laugh, signaling him to her intentions if he really did lose. Trowa had no choice but to comply with Quatre's request. With a deep sigh, he leaned forward.

At first, his lick was a little awkward, his tongue not able to figure out how much he'd be able to lick before it went sore from dryness and over-use. However, genius was in Trowa's blood and it only took five seconds for him to realize that he had to close his mouth over the other's skin. Quickly at first, he cleaned off the thin trail on Quatre's chest before working his way up to his chin. When that was done with, he licked Quatre's lips once to give him the go signal. Obedient to his request, Quatre immediately dove in for the second piece of fruit.

With one of the most seductive looks he had ever seen, Quatre stared at him with the fruit still stuck between his awaiting lips. Almost as an afterthought, Trowa wondered how this sort of obscene display was going to teach Duo a lesson. He shrugged to himself. He was enjoying it a lot, so he might as well go along with the flow. Now used to the method of cleaning Quatre, he proceeded to catch the liquid with his closed mouth, slowly working his way up Quatre's neck before receiving the strawberry at the end of the goal. It was fun actually, like making out without really doing so. Trowa felt a little naughty.

It was around the fourth strawberry when he realized that he was no longer worried about the contest. He was simply enjoying the connection between his lips and tongue with Quatre's slightly salty, clean smelling skin. So concentrated was he on it that he almost jumped when the buzzer at the end of the game sounded finally bringing him back to reality. Trowa looked around him when the game was over with. Their crowd of spectators seemed to have lost their voice. Everyone was staring at them, including Duo whose surprised look turned into one of murder. Trowa gulped. So that was what Quatre had meant.

"And, umm," Cathy voiced from the microphone. "The winners are... Quatre and Trowa with four strawberries?" she said with surprise. Trowa was unsure about that himself. He looked at the other bowls to find three greens at the most. He supposed that their display halted everyone's efforts. Still, the announcement of their win still garnered enough cheers.

Trowa took his prize, a fairly large, stuffed strawberry, with awkward thanks. Quatre, on the other hand, was nowhere near the stage. Trowa noticed him with Duo some distance away and it was obvious that the two were having a fight. Meanwhile, Heero, who was part of the crowds, gave him another dry look. His eyebrow was raised. Trowa shrugged at him. He really didn't know what had gotten into him.

When the crowd had finally dissipated, Quatre approached him. Duo was nowhere to be found. His partner for the day thanked him for a great time before saying his goodbyes. As he was starting up the engine, Trowa decided that because Quatre had been too damn sexy that day, he deserved the stuffed strawberry they'd won. Without a second thought he dunked the toy inside the convertible. It made Quatre laugh to have a strange fruit sitting next to him on the passenger side. Trowa could only smile in response. In his opinion, the giant strawberry looked better next to Quatre than Duo ever did.

"Thanks again," Quatre said before holding something up in the air. "I received another precious gift today," he announced. "And I'm making multiple copies of this for myself."

A familiar picture was waved in the air. Trowa had no time to protest before Quatre drove off.

"No," he said with a pathetic tone of voice. He was going to have to talk to Catherine about setting him up so sneakily later.


	28. Part Twenty Eight

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Eight)**

It should have been considered a momentous occasion when Duo started being pleasant around him. However, there were several things to be wary about. For one thing, Duo and Quatre were not on good terms and the reason had most probably something to do with him. Secondly, although a usually affable person to be around, Duo was just as manipulative as Quatre. When he wanted war, he waged war with the most cheery of faces that one cannot help but lose their guard around him. Trowa knew he was already losing the war as they spoke.

"I mean, really, why should I care? It's not like we're together, right?"

Trowa knew he should have skipped lunch while he had the chance. The problem was, Duo honed in on him the moment he took a bite out of his standard peanut butter sandwich. He was sure Duo was not looking for consolation or a sympathetic ear. He was out to get him and Trowa couldn't figure out how exactly he was going to do it.

"And it's not like I was stealing your guy, right? Technically, Heero was supposed to be with me that day. It's just a simple case of misunderstanding."

To that, Trowa nodded. He, too, thought that the entire day was a misunderstanding. He could only blame the geniuses who came up with the plan. It was only unfortunate that he was one of said geniuses. Really, he should have been direct. He should have just threatened Duo so the guy would give up Quatre's location. Maybe then they wouldn't have had to lure Quatre out the way they did. Not only did their plan cause a commotion within their natural, albeit crazy, order but it also caused scandal within his family. The gossip was thickening by the day around the circus.

"You know what - that guy - he's always that way," Duo continued. Trowa did not fail to notice how Duo refused to say Quatre's name.

"What way?" Trowa asked quietly before sipping on his drink. Nervous around the other, he forgot that he was sipping on very strongly carbonated soda. He coughed when the carbonation attacked his unprepared throat.

"You know what I mean. He's very self-destructive," Duo said unmindful of the hacking Trowa was performing at the moment.

"I'm sure he's getting a lot of help from someone," Trowa answered with a gurgled cough just before realizing what he'd said. He hoped that Duo wouldn't notice his slip because the short statement in itself was a little more than rude.

"God, when did you get so cynical?" Duo responded with a sour face following the statement with a large bite out of his cheeseburger. A mix of mayo and ketchup dripped down the other end of the burger making Duo look very much like a creature out for blood. Trowa began to sweat. He knew for certain that Duo was currently out for his blood in particular and he knew he wasn't just paranoid. Heero, the new object of Duo's desires, was with him. It was bad enough that he was the same person who had his eyes on Duo's former flame. If he were Duo, he would have killed him the moment he got the chance.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out before he realized what he was saying. He sounded pathetic too after nearly killing himself with his own drink.

"Eh, sorry?" Duo asked with a strange face. "For complicating things?" he continued.

Trowa nodded in response. Duo didn't seem to be mind although his next words said otherwise.

"Yeah, I'd destroy you completely if I could," Duo said with his customary happy face. Trowa felt like there was a slug crawling up his spine. The words 'do not mess with another man's property' seemed to blink at the top of Duo's head. The mixed signals were confusing him. One moment Duo was fine with it and the next moment he was not.

"What? Lost your tongue there, genius?" Duo questioned.

Trowa wanted to cry out in frustration. Why did it have to be him? He was a good person who happened to fall in love with a thief. It was just the case that the thief had massive guilt issues and a possessive ex-lover attached to him. Why couldn't he get himself a regular-looking guy with no strings attached? Life could have been easier then. He would have been taking romantic walks on the beach by now.

"Jesus man, get a hold of yourself," Duo said when he stopped breathing. "I'm not exactly the threatening type and I sure as hell am not crazy enough to pick a fight with you. I mean, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? For a nerd always stuck in the lab, you sure have massive arms."

Blinking, Trowa considered what Duo said. He did work-out on the weekends, but that didn't mean that he knew how to use those supposedly massive arms of his.

"You're not mad?" he asked just to make sure.

"Mad?" Duo echoed. "Are we in kindergarten? I'm not mad at you. I'm furious!" Duo exclaimed. "And while we're at it, I'd like to send Blondie straight to hell. And before you start; don't judge me man. You don't know anything."

Trowa was about to interrupt before he was immediately cut-off.

"Worry not, Tro," Duo said, continuing to be cheerful. "I'm not doing you any damage. Instead, I'll tell you more secrets about your favorite blonde. You know - the type that'll piss him off."

Trowa considered it for a moment. Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't that bad. He'd once again escaped Duo's wrath. In fact, it was even better since any information about Quatre was good information. Just when he thought he knew everything, there were still many secrets to be spilled. It seemed that Quatre lived on secrets, the same secrets that held him together.

"You know his secretary?" Duo started. Trowa shook his head.

"Marie, that nice old lady who takes all his calls and schedules his appointments," Duo continued before swiping some fries on his mini-mound of ketchup. "She used to be his nanny."

Trowa frowned. Aside from making Quatre seem like a helpless rich kid with security issues, the information was not interesting at all. In fact, Quatre had never mentioned that name before.

"Only," Duo said just when Trowa thought he'd finished his humdrum revelation. "That nanny, now secretary, is also known as Mrs. Quinn. That's right. She's the wife of our employer. In other words, the sick bastard that our employer is always has his spy of a wife around his blonde guinea pig."

"And Quatre is aware of this?" Trowa said with a start.

"Of course he is, but Marie is like a mother to him. You see how messed up that is? Plus, the Quinns have a son of their own. The juvenile delinquent was sent away when he was a kid, so the missus now has this strange delusion that Blondie's her son and she thinks her husband's helping the poor boy."

It sounded more like some twisted arrangement to Trowa. For some reason, he felt drawn into the conversation, even forgetting his half-eaten sandwich that lay forgotten on the table.

"He's agreed to all this?"

"Why not? It's all he knows. There's like these set of rules somewhere that he follows," Duo replied. He sounded exasperated more than anything. "I love him man, I really do. It's just that sometimes I don't know what else to do. It's like he puts himself into these situations where there's no chance of escape."

Trowa knew that his own aura spelled out something along the lines of 'then you should just leave him alone', but the words wouldn't dare leave his lips. He had to give Duo a little credit for his good intentions despite the fact that those good intentions were fueling the other's bad habits. Those same, good intentions of Duo's were also moving him farther and farther away from his sweetie.

Then, his thoughts strayed to Heero. There was just something inherently wrong about their arrangement just like the way Quatre and Duo's arrangement worked. Sometimes it seemed more like his current partner wasn't in the picture. Heero was just like another bystander watching the events from a distance. Was Heero with him merely to irritate Quatre or was he in the relationship because he actually liked him? Some days it seemed like Heero was merely playing the part of the trouble-maker and critic. Other days it felt like Heero would do anything to satisfy him, even going so far as to help him get a hold of Quatre even when he'd proclaimed several times before that he hated the other's guts.

"I should probably ask," Trowa murmured quietly to himself.

Duo had some inkling that he was no longer concentrating on their current conversation.

"Hello, are you still listening to me?" he said with an irritated knock of his knuckles on Trowa's head. "I was pouring my heart out here."

"Of course," Trowa said immediately. He didn't really want to admit that his thoughts had been veering toward a different direction. After all, he wasn't off the hook yet.

"You better have been listening because I'll be quizzing you later," Duo warned before he collected his litter and discarded it in a nearby trash bin. He didn't even give Trowa time to react as he exited the cafeteria without another word. It was an unexpected warning that caused Trowa to blink.

"Quiz me?" Trowa questioned to no one in particular.

That same instance, the door to the cafeteria opened once again.

"I was kidding," Duo said with a roll of his eyes. "You better get back to work you dork. You'll be late in approximately 45.8 seconds," he said with a wave of his hand before rushing back out.

Trowa looked around him only to find that he was the lone soul in the cafeteria. There was no choice but to make a run for it. Yes, it was juvenile, but Duo got him this time. By the time he'd clocked in, he realized that he was late. The clock, at 1:07 pm, flashed red. Too bad Quinn labs was strict on punctuality. He had some tedious paperwork to do come the end of the day. How he really hated Duo for making him late. The guy knew just how to get him where it hurts. The guy must have known how he absolutely hated paper work. Duo, of course, wasn't late. After all, he practically controlled time at Quinn labs.

Groaning, Trowa trudged wearily toward his research lab. It would take him a little more than thirty minutes to fill out senseless paperwork, which meant that he would miss his bus. Missing his bus meant that it would be too late for Heero to pick him up. Heero being unable to pick him up meant that he would have to wait for the next bus and the next bus did not come for another hour and a half. It was surely going to be late by the time he got home.

"Stupid Duo," he said before running his keycard through a slot that gave him access to his lab. "He should have just punched me in the face," he murmured to himself. Heero was going to be wondering where he was later. They had plans. Duo must have known they had plans. Otherwise, he wouldn't have so ingeniously come up with such a strategy.

"At least there're still some decent creatures left around here," Trowa said as he approached his lab mice. Their red, beady eyes stared at him as he came closer. "Isn't that right?" he questioned. He did like to talk to them when he was alone but only when he was alone. There was no sense in damaging his image.

Sitting down on his swiveling chair, Trowa fell silent, suddenly catching a foreign sound. He strained his ears to catch the sound he thought he'd heard. When he concentrated on the faint reverberation, he recognized it as heavy breathing. Someone or something was panting. He checked his mice to find that they all looked fine. It only meant that there was somebody else in his lab and he knew the one person other than him that frequented the place.

"Quatre?" he voiced before leaving his seat. The breathing pattern didn't sound so good and Quatre was usually in and out of his lab within minutes. Immediately, Trowa could sense that something was wrong. He looked left and right only to find that was nobody there and just when he thought that he was hearing things, he suddenly tripped over a foot.

"Quatre?" he repeated while looking down at the sweating heap of body sprawled on the other side of his desk.

Quatre looked nothing like he usually did. For one thing, he was not strutting around in that sinfully seductive way. Sure, the customary black suit that always sent Trowa to la-la land was still on him, but his violently shivering body could not have been anything less than frightening. His skin, from what Trowa could see, was pale and covered in a thin layer of sweat. A head that was buried in a heap of arms was rested on one knee. His other leg, the one that had tripped Trowa, was stretched out.

"I'm fine," Quatre answered in an uneven voice. Trowa didn't know who he was trying to fool with his current appearance. He looked sick enough that Trowa had the urge to call an ambulance. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that Quatre had landed on his lab as a thief. Breaking and entering was but one of the many charges that would be brought against him if he was found there.

"What happened?" Trowa questioned as he kneeled down to get a closer look. He was no medical doctor, but what he was seeing looked something caused by a possible overdose of Q30ZO. The drug was a stimulant and Trowa had textbook style knowledge of how an overdose of such substances would look like.

"Here, let me see your face," he said in a quiet voice as he gently lifted Quatre's head out of his arms. He wasn't able to get a good enough glimpse because Quatre immediately buried his head back into his arms.

"I look like shit," he said in an almost irritated way. Trowa was pretty sure that Quatre was accurately describing himself, but he had to make sure.

"Please, just let me have a look," Trowa pleaded. He had to make sure it wasn't just some bad reaction to food. He mentally crossed his fingers hoping it was the case and nothing more serious.

"Fine," Quatre said with a half-growl, not attempting to stop Trowa as his face was lifted.

The first thing that came into view was his eyes. The deep blue-green of his irises were unfocused and clouded as he stared at them. However, what was more striking was the way his pupils dilated, giving Trowa a definite signal that it was, indeed, an overdose.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he said.

Quatre pulled his other knee inward and then buried his face back in his arms.

"I don't do hospitals," he said in a whisper.

Trowa sat back on his heels. What was he supposed to do? Watch in silence; find an informative book; wait until Quatre gets so messed up he'll have no choice but to go see a doctor? Just when he'd run out of ideas, Quatre suddenly gave him the answer.

"Duo," was all he said.

Trowa hesitated for about five seconds before following Quatre's suggestion. Sure, he still had some issues to discuss with Duo, but the other was more experienced in those types of situations. Running for his computer, Trowa inputted Duo's extension number.

"Late much are we?" Duo greeted with a smirk when he answered his end of the line.

"Later," Trowa answered dismissively. "I have a problem," he said. He didn't wait for Duo to answer and instead, directed the camera to Quatre's direction. The response was immediate.

"Be there as soon as I can," he said. It was a surprise that he didn't even think about it first. The last time he checked, the two were not on good terms. Nevertheless, Quatre still seemed to trust him.

Trowa sighed. There was nothing more to do but wait and ponder the relationship between the two. He could only hope that Duo knew exactly what to do because he was completely powerless at the moment. He couldn't even touch Quatre especially since he didn't know how the other would react. Quatre seemed too irritable to be attended to and his shaking made it difficult for him to approach. With nothing more to do, he kept to himself.

The near silence was to be broken not more than five minutes later upon Duo's arrival. His apparent rival was nothing like him, bodily hauling Quatre to his feet after having haphazardly placing a number of vials on his lab desk. A few of them tipped over and rolled, almost falling off the table if not for his quick fingers.

"Which one?" Trowa asked as he read through some of the labels of the vials.

"You're the genius here. You tell me," Duo replied with an irritable tone of voice. Trowa didn't know what he did to deserve everyone's contempt. Frantic and not knowing what to do, he nearly let a wayward vial slip past his fingers.

"I figured," Duo said when he started to panic. "You'd know what to do." He sounded apologetic as he said it.

"This has never happened before?" Trowa questioned, meeting Duo's gaze. A twinge of jealousy hit him as he saw Quatre hook his arms around Duo's neck before burying his face in the same, very ready and willing neck. Duo's hold, in turn, was just as secure around his waist and back. Trowa figured that Quatre had called for Duo not because the other knew what to do, but because he (literally) needed support.

"It has. I just managed to whip up something accidentally when it happened before. I'd rather not try that again," Duo admitted.

Trowa put a hand on his face. What did they think he was? He didn't come up with his formulas in five minutes. It took him months to complete his experiments followed by another few months of testing and retesting. Still, Quatre was not looking any better. He may have been comfortably stuck on Duo but he was still shaking in that disturbing way.

"Then you'll have to give me a bit of time," he finally said. There was no choice but to work on it. Besides, the people at the hospital probably wouldn't know what to do with him either. Q30ZO was a manufactured drug and it was manufactured specifically for Quatre. Detoxification would have been ideal, but that was not certain either.

"I'm counting on you," Duo said in what was probably a gesture of support. Trowa accepted it with awkward gratitude before concentrating on what he had to do. His jealousy would have to be reserved for a later time.

His mind, unused to the current working conditions, tried to figure out how he was going to accomplish the impossible task. Then, when he was just about to panic once again, he breathed out to let his autopilot take over. When that autopilot made its appearance, Trowa realized something very basic.

"You gave him a tranquilizer?" he said as he re-read the labels on the vials.

"Heck, who knows?" Duo answered. His hold on Quatre turned into a rhythmic shake reminiscent of the one mothers usually employed to soothe their young ones.

"These things you brought me," Trowa informed him. "You could make a simple tranquilizer out of these."

"Amen to that then," Duo said next.

"Using a drug to counter another drug is dangerous!" Trowa near-yelled. It was tough when he was dealing with amateurs. They didn't know what they were doing. That was what he told himself, but he knew that it must have been the jealousy that caused him to lose his cool.

"That's the reason why I said I didn't want to try it out again," Duo said with a roll of his eyes.

Realizing that saying any more would do him no good, Trowa quickly whipped up his own brand of tranquilizer and poured the ready substance into an empty vial. He then shoved the vial into an injector that looked more like an ominous gun. All this was done in haste and in uncontrollable irritation.

"I need skin," he said and from the sound of his voice, one could tell that his patience was wearing thin.

Duo complied without question, probably since he looked pissed off enough not to counter. He flipped Quatre's body around so he was now facing Trowa. When he was secure enough that he wouldn't slip and fall, Duo pulled down the zipper that started at the front of his neck. Sweat that was once hidden in his black suit became visible. The thin layer of liquid covered his chest with the run-off from his head and neck flowing down the now exposed skin. Trowa couldn't wait any longer. He swiped Duo's hand away and pulled the suit down further, causing Quatre's body to jerk with the direction of his pull. A bicep came into view.

"Try to keep him still," Trowa said before pulling the trigger on the injector. A whooshing, airy sound followed the same time Quatre's pained face came into Trowa's view.

"Thanks," Quatre said before falling forward onto him.

Trowa was no longer amused. He'd seen enough. Quatre had to stop using Q30ZO or else he'd make him. There was no other option.


	29. Part Twenty Nine

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Twenty-Nine)**

It was tight and uncomfortable. There was barely even any air where he was. His elbows were plastered to his sides and his knee could barely push him forward. There should have been a good explanation for what he was doing, but there was none. It seemed that impulse drove him too far that he had no choice but to go along with it. Of course, that same impulse didn't care if he had to crawl through some stuffy vents to satisfy it.

"Was it five paces east or five paces west?" Quatre whispered to himself. He'd never really been to Quinn lab's cafeteria. He had no business there because the things he needed were nowhere near that area. Not until now that is.

"So I was talking about the coupling of rotation and vibration. You know, level spacing and the Boltzman distribution and he looked at me like I grew a second head. Dimwits, all of them."

Quatre made a disgusted face. Nerds - how he hated them, especially the high and mighty ones. But at least that meant that he was close to his destination. The cafeteria was where all the buzz was happening. It was interesting to note that during work, these same show-off intellectuals were dead serious. Their job was their lives.

He checked his watch. His own lunch break would end in 45 minutes. It meant that he still had a lot of time. He had more than enough time to please his abnormal whim.

"I was late. He tricked me. I swear, he tricked me and I didn't even figure it out until it was too late."

However, that quiet, calm voice Quatre liked. His target was right where he suspected he would be, probably eating his customary peanut butter sandwich. Whatever he was talking about, Quatre didn't care. All he wanted was to hear his voice and catch a glimpse of his handsome face.

"He could have done worse."

Finding some slits with which he could see through, Quatre peered below. He knew he recognized the owner of the other voice. It was unusual and even adorable of Heero to visit Trowa during his lunch break.

"I know, but you wouldn't believe how horrible paperwork is around here."

Quatre adjusted his position and then blinked just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He couldn't figure out if Trowa was really doing what he thought he was doing or if it was just some weird hallucination brought on by his years of drug dependence. He squinted just to make sure and raised his brow when he realized that he wasn't seeing things.

"At some point I've got to wonder if you've lost your mind."

Quatre agreed with Heero's statement. The contraption before Trowa was more absurd than scientific. A flask of water was boiling underneath a small, crystal bowl of melting chocolate. He thought he smelled a waft of it as he was approaching the cafeteria section. Next to the simple contraption was a bag of chips. Quatre watched with curiosity.

"I just wanted to get my mind off some things for the time being," Trowa said with a frown. His frown seemed to deepen before it disappeared quicker than it came. With a neutral face, Trowa took a chip out of the bag and dipped it in the melted chocolate.

"Are you really going to eat that?" Heero asked with disgust.

"Why not?" Trowa said before delivering the chocolate-coated chip into his mouth.

It was then that Quatre remembered that it was his lunch break as well. He reached into the back of his neck for the small, handy bag he brought along with him. Opening it up without a sound, he retrieved his sandwich. A piece of dry chicken breast was wedged between a leaf of lettuce, a piece of tomato, and whole grain slices. No mayo, no ketchup, no mustard - not one condiment was in the sandwich. Quatre looked at it and then at Trowa's abomination of a lunch. Somehow, the abomination looked really good.

"Want to try one?" Trowa asked the skeptic Heero. "It's good. The salty flavor of the potato chip mixes nicely with the sweetness of the chocolate. The two tastes don't cancel each other out. They complement each other. It's like heaven in your mouth. Trust me. I'm a chemist."

The explanation was good. Quatre thought it was insightful. Quatre also thought that it made him want to try out the salty sweet treat. Only, he looked back down at his sandwich and remembered that he had to keep healthy if he was to do the things he was doing. Besides, he had to fit into the narrow vents and there was no way of doing that if he was filled to the brim with sinful delights. Almost reluctantly, he bit into his sandwich.

"Convincing enough," Heero muttered before trying one out himself. He looked pleased. Quatre was jealous.

"Good?" Trowa asked.

"I usually don't like sweets, but I would have to say that this is one of the best things I've ever tasted."

"I told you," Trowa replied. He looked neither smug nor pleased. It was always hard to tell with him.

Quatre bit on his sandwich and chewed. It was fun to watch Trowa like that, fun enough that he visited Quinn labs just for that purpose. He had no other engagements in the institution that day. All his sisters seemed to be in good health following his last break-in and he still had himself a decent supply of his own brand of body elixir, also known to the lab as serial number Q30ZO. True, it caused some problems in Trowa's own lab just some time ago, but all was good. He'd gotten more from Duo right after that incident.

"I hear you've been having a _rat_ problem around here."

Quatre paused in his chewing. Did Heero possibly figure out that he was right there?

"Uh, rat problem? I've never heard of that one," Trowa responded, obviously unaware of what Heero was referring to.

Just when Quatre thought he was seeing too much into Heero's statement, the other looked up discreetly at him. Quatre was pretty sure Heero was giving him the evil eye. He cursed to himself. Heero really did see him after all. Given the methods he used to be discreet, he sure was losing his touch. He thought his stealth had been good enough. Nobody had ever caught him in the vents before.

"You know what I mean - _pests_ that roam around," Heero continued.

Quatre knew it was his cue to leave. Taking the last bite out of his sandwich, he crawled slowly along the stuffy vents. His snooping would have to do for another time or better yet, this was his final act of selfishness. Heero looked angry for a reason he could pretty much figure out. In any case, he had no business eavesdropping in Trowa's conversations. Trowa, he had to remind himself, was with Heero and as he'd witnessed now and many times before, they were pretty much content with each other. There was no reason to complicate things just like the way Duo did.

oOo

"Have a good night Mr. Winner."

"You too," Quatre said as he exited his building. It was another late night brought upon by his inability to concentrate. Sure, time was more abundant now than when he'd been too preoccupied with Trowa, but that didn't mean that he'd been able to do more work than usual. As it happens, the distraction he wanted to get rid of was harder to get rid of than expected.

Quatre rubbed his palm on his face, something he wouldn't do had he been in the presence of his adoring public. He was his own main problem. He knew that for sure. All Trowa did was be Trowa and all he did was ogle the glory that was Trowa.

"I'm losing my mind," Quatre groaned as he approached his vehicle. His free hand pushed the button on his key that made the car's lights flash twice. Within seconds, the engine was humming a familiar, rhythmic tune only broken by Quatre's not so delicate shove of his suitcase on the passenger side of the vehicle. He shut the door with a resounding thud. There had always been something wrong with him, he knew that, but this took the cake.

He walked over to the driver side of the vehicle. Something had to be done and soon. Just as he thought that, he was suddenly attacked by blinding flashes, this time not coming from his vehicle. He groaned again. He could identify camera flashes anywhere and this camera flash was of the good variety. As expected not too long after, he was shoved violently to the side of his vehicle. Apparently, when it came to Heero, the 'handle with care' sign that always seemed to be flashing right above his head became null and void.

"To what do I owe this unannounced visit?" Quatre said with a smile.

"Don't give me that," Heero replied, pulling the collar of his shirt up in a very threatening way before he was once again shoved against the car. "You always do as you please don't you?" he said with a snarl.

Quatre made no move to reply. Although he'd been ready for the accusations, he had not been able to gauge how he would react given said accusations. He couldn't speak nor could he look Heero in the eye like he did so easily many times before.

"What? You have nothing to say now?"

"I was wrong," Quatre finally said after pausing more than necessary.

"Of course you are," Heero responded before letting go of his shirt. "The question is - do you know what you're apologizing for."

"I have no business with Trowa," Quatre replied, proceeding to arrange his once orderly attire. Fussing over his crooked tie made him unable to see Heero's hand coming toward him. Thankfully, the hand only landed on his already rumpled shirt and not his face. The face had to be kept flawless for the questioning public.

"Trowa's in love with you," Heero announced with another shove. "I don't know what it is about you that attract fools of every kind, but it's about time you realize that Trowa being in love with you is not merely a statement of fact. It's a privilege."

"I have no time for him," Quatre said, for the first time shoving back at Heero. He didn't know if it was the truth in Heero's statement or his obvious goading that made Quatre lose his cool. He rarely did. It was his job to keep calm, not to respond to provocations. Responding did well to cause him greater harm in the end.

"Then make time," Heero shoved back. Quatre could feel the still fresh injuries from another engagement screaming out from his back and between his shoulder blades. Heero was really trying to piss him off. Fortunately for Heero, it was working rather well.

"I've got other more important things to do."

He pushed Heero's arm away, choosing to change his position. Any more shoving and Heero was going to cause a dent in the car - not that he cared. He just didn't want Duo whining about how he'd ruined yet another perfectly good car.

"Important things to do?" Heero said while rubbing the underside of his chin. "Let's analyze that," he said with a mocking tone of voice. "...Twenty-nine sisters who have a cough or cold every other day. Mucus better known as snot comes out of their noses one day and they call on their little brother for assistance; and what assistance does he provide? Stolen medication from the same lab where he serves as a madman's guinea pig. Does he have any choice in the matter? Of course he does because not every single malfunction in his sisters' bodies is life-threatening. Face it Quatre. Most of your sisters' diseases are nothing serious. Quinn wouldn't have exposed them to anything dangerous. However crazy he is, that man was still your father's best friend. He'd never cause permanent harm to his best friend's children... although now that I witness your rather extremist ways, he may have made a mistake on the last child."

Quatre rarely got angry, a trait he rather liked when he was growing up. Still, Heero did somehow manage to break his cool every now and then. The last time that happened was the day they departed from each other's company. Heero knew his story well. After all, he was the ambitious high school kid who'd interviewed and photographed his then still living father. His father, always wary around his own son, decided to tell Heero his life story instead.

"A little cough?" Quatre questioned with rage. He felt his fists pumping at his sides with a will of their own. "What do you call what's wrong with Emma then, huh?" he screamed.

"She's autistic Quatre. There's no way for you to fix that," Heero said with just as much intensity as if trying to wake him up to reality. Quatre didn't like that. In fact, he hated it so much that he swung his fist directly at Heero. The loud smack as his well-trained fist hit Heero's cheek was sickening. Surely he'd just barely manage to dislocate a jaw.

"That's not for you to judge," Quatre said in a whisper while trying to catch his breath.

He watched as Heero found his bearings and spit a mix of blood and saliva from his mouth. Moving his jaw left and right, it looked as if he was trying to readjust it. The giant red mark on his face was proof that the hit was hard. If Quatre could take down men three times his size then he could surely pack a powerful punch very easily.

"Your father did say you took things too much to heart," Heero said. He looked at him with the intensity only his signature deep blue eyes could convey. It did well to retract Quatre's eyes from the quickly swelling face of his longtime friend. The punch must have really hurt.

"Stop trying to piss me off," Quatre replied in a much more subdued voice. He looked away and then at his car. The shiny black coat of the vehicle reflected the moon's light, taking him away from the conversation almost instantly. The engine of the car was still humming quietly.

"I already managed to do that," Heero responded. He, too, seemed to tire of the screaming.

"You're in love with him. I don't see why you have to ask my permission," Quatre said.

He had inkling that Heero was alluding to that secret. Trowa was more than important to Heero. Otherwise, he wouldn't have wasted his time coming all the way to his office building to give him a lecture on how messed up he was. As far as he knew, Heero had no intention of dealing with his situation. He'd said it some years ago which Quatre appreciated in many ways. Since then, Heero had never gotten into his business, never questioning, only stirring trouble within the press.

"You say that like you're so sure about it," Heero said. He averted his eyes to some remote object that was unidentifiable as if not wanting to discuss the matter with him.

"I know what it looks like," Quatre said. He'd seen it far too many times and his experience with it was extensive. His mother's looks had granted him a blessing and a curse. Someone once told him that it was far too easy to fall in love with him if only for those looks.

"Shut up," Heero said lamely. His tired response made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

"I don't have any intention of pursuing him further you know," Quatre said. He was stubborn like that.

Heero turned those eyes toward him and glared. Quatre supposed that he should have stopped, but he wanted to say it. It made his statement feel more real and made his abandonment of all things that had to do with Trowa final.

"You put me in a tight situation," Heero answered vaguely. It was vague because one could only guess what he meant by it. "I hate you," he added.

"I know you do," Quatre replied before proceeding to push the button on his key that would turn off the engine. It looked like Heero was not going to let him go any time soon.

Playing with his keys, he considered Heero's situation for a moment. Heero was just like Duo in some ways, especially in ways where he was the problematic factor. Truly, Quatre didn't mean to be the cause of most people's grief, but it seemed as thought he was cursed with the role.

"It's just a temporary infatuation with me," Quatre said, trying to dissuade Heero from thinking that he had no hope with Trowa whatsoever. It was his best guess. After all, nothing more than infatuation drew people to him. There was no telling what the real thing was anymore. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that there were those few tiny seconds some time not too long ago when he imagined a life with Trowa on a quiet hideaway far from anyone's view. Still, imagination was only imagination and reality was far bitterer than it let itself out to be.

"I wouldn't be trying to talk some sense into you if it were only infatuation," Heero countered. His tranquil moment all but vanished as his anger began to pick up once again. "You've always been blind that you've never seen the difference between the two. You've got a problem with vanity."

Quatre crossed his arms and waited for the rest of it. There was no need for him to say anymore when he'd already expressed his part. He'd already established that he had no time for relationships, Trowa included.

"When you're in love with someone," Heero started. "You don't just shove them aside. You do whatever it takes to make them happy even if it means giving up something on your part."

Quatre blinked. The statement was so unlike Heero. He fought the urge to laugh, but before he could do so, Heero added something to his statement.

"Oh, and I owe you one," he said.

Quatre was unprepared for the flying fist that, in an instant, landed on his cheek. The force of the punch was so hard; he thought he'd be eating gravel. He spit the blood coming from his mouth and cursed.

"Didn't I say anywhere but the face?" he screamed with frustration. He then checked the damage on the car's side mirror and cursed again. It would be a pain having to explain it to the people at work.

"Don't worry about having to come up with an excuse for that," Heero said with a smirk. Even with a split lip and a swollen face, he looked particularly smug. The reason for the smugness was later revealed when he took shot after shot of Quatre on his ever-present camera. "These are going to be in the newspapers tomorrow and you don't even have to explain what happened. _I'll_ do it for you."

With his irritatingly derisive final words, Heero left him alone to curse in the silence of the night. For the first time in many years, Quatre felt like sleeping in.


	30. Part Thirty

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Thirty)**

He couldn't say anything when he saw it. He could only blink. Trowa wondered why that was. Seeing the actual picture of Quatre losing his cool and right on the front page of the tabloids was more surprising than disturbing. He looked livid with the lividness only accentuated by the obvious injury to his forever fine-looking visage.

"We had a fight."

"I could tell," Trowa said immediately. He averted his eyes from the paper to the video monitor where his current 'boyfriend's' swollen face was in full view. He was no idiot. He could put two and two together without being told. The question was - why did Heero decide to have the evidence of their brawl published.

"_That's_ how childish he could get," Heero explained without being asked, although with the way he sounded, Trowa begged to differ. Lunch break would be over in a little over ten minutes leaving very little time for a full-length discussion on what Heero had been thinking. Phone conversations were just not the right medium for that kind of thing.

"You have to understand that the cool exterior is nothing more than that - an exterior," Heero continued. "Just when you think you can't find a hole anywhere, you dig straight through him and make one. All I'm saying is that Quatre can't do _all_ the manipulating forever."

"I'd never punch him," Trowa answered. He was horrified to even imagine doing such a thing. Quatre was meant to be cuddled like the malnourished teddy bear he was.

"It was meant as a go signal. I wasn't suggesting that you punch him to arrive at the same effect," Heero said dryly. With a hand holding up his head, he looked tired and very done with the Quatre situation. Trowa couldn't blame him. They'd been plotting it out for weeks. When Heero realized that the overprotective Duo was more troublesome than helpful, he'd suggested that they work it out on their own. Sure, Duo had a lot of inside knowledge, but there were ways of accessing the inside knowledge without actually asking him for it. All one had to do was apply a clever spying technique.

Trowa shook his head.

"You can imagine that I'm not pleased with what happened," he said. Approaching Quatre was not part of the plan. In fact, punching him was above and beyond what was necessary. Trowa could not imagine what was on Heero's mind.

"But of course," Heero replied. "But I can assure you that he won't be making any public appearances in the next week. He'll be holed up inside his house fuming and you don't have to thank me for that."

Trowa blinked again. He would have never thought of it. It was an ingenious plan. Trowa tapped the side of his foot against an unlabeled box filled with vials. Quatre would need the contents of the box very soon and he won't be finding it anywhere Duo tells him to look. That was because Trowa had the lab's entire supply of Q30ZO right at his foot. No one else knew where it was.

"I should be going," Heero said dismissively. Trowa didn't get a chance to say goodbye before his screen was blank once again. At least that discussion was over and done with.

Trowa tapped the box again. It had been difficult to secure the vials, especially since the location of the elusive chemical was changed almost every day. It had been a twisted way of having Quatre search for his 'cheese' like a lab rat. Duo had alleviated the burden by telling Quatre exactly where to find it, but Trowa had gone ahead and made it more difficult for him. He was not going to be a spectator any longer. If it was a game they wanted, then it was a game they would get. Quatre was getting none of it and Duo was going to supply none of it. For once, he was holding all the cards.

"Man, was I wasted last night!"

Trowa abruptly turned his head to his right. Company was completely unexpected. Just when he was about to let out an evil laugh like the villains usually would on television, Duo came barging in without a sound. Trowa pushed his precious box away from view.

"Lunch break ends in--"

"Blah, blah, blah... Five minutes, five seconds - who cares?"

Duo sat opposite him and yawned. It was hard to believe they were on friendly terms again. Duo forgave and forgot like a saint who held no grudges. It was easy to see why he was a very likeable person despite his bad influence.

"Can I help you?" Trowa said, keeping his cool. Duo might have already suspected him to be the culprit of the missing substances.

"Nah, I was just thinking you know," Duo drawled like a drunken man. He didn't smell the least bit like alcohol but he looked every bit the part of the drunk. "Susie the chimp has been visiting me a lot recently," he said before putting two fingers into his mouth and whistling.

Trowa raised his brow in an attempt to look aloof and unaware. The truth was Heero had lent him a spy camera which he'd placed on Susie's ribbon. Rumor has it that Duo was fond of the chimps used for testing in the south labs, so Trowa had made use of that knowledge. Everyday, he'd watch Duo interact with the chimp through the hidden camera and surprisingly enough, Duo told the chimp _everything_. He told the chimp everything he knew from pass codes to secret storage locations.

"Hey Susie," Duo greeted as the chimp came walking into his lab like a wannabe human. She made her typical monkey greeting before climbing up Duo's arm to rest at the top of Trowa's desk. His lab mice, unused to anything other than human presence, ran to the other end of their cage.

"She's scaring my mice," Trowa said before moving said mice to a safer place. One of them was on a Q30ZO induced high and was jumpy. It didn't help that there was a potential predator in sight.

"I don't know if you know that Quatre has been coming by a lot recently," Duo started.

"Oh, really," Trowa responded in a neither surprised nor uncaring manner. Duo was getting somewhere, but Trowa did not want to give him the chance to catch him.

"...Seems like the whole lab's ran out of his brand of crack. Guess where he'll be taking care of that problem tonight."

Images of a big guy with a bag of painful specialty tools came to mind. Trowa almost reacted if not for the very functional, genius part of his brain that told him that Duo was meaning to trap him. He was not about to admit that he had what they were looking for.

"From what I heard, Quatre would rather not leave his house when his face isn't presentable enough for his liking," Trowa countered, pushing the newspaper Duo's way. The face of a very angry Quatre came into the other's line of sight.

Duo paused before taking a closer look. He could only laugh when he saw the picture, giving Trowa the impression that he hadn't known of the incident beforehand. Susie, his favorite chimp, seemed to be amused by his response and reacted as he did, even pointing to the paper for emphasis. Trowa thought that his lab was starting to sound like a zoo.

"Jesus, how could I not know about this?" Duo said as he took a closer look at the picture. "Whoever hit him might've been sick and tired of the 'anything but the face' rule."

Trowa frowned. Mouse number seven, which he secretly named Mickey, did not like the disturbance. Much like his drugged mouse, he too was finding the whole encounter distasteful. Sure, he'd known himself to be a nice guy but the insensitivity around Quatre was just too much. Did nobody other than him care enough?

"I don't see how you could laugh so carelessly when you've done nothing to help him," Trowa muttered.

None of these characters made sense. Wufei, who'd so easily run away, applied a strict catch and release program where he'd 'help' Quatre and then run back as quickly to wherever it was he was hiding. Since the time Trowa had talked to him, the man was nowhere to be found. Heero, too, took to the no-touch policy. Quatre's problems were none of his business. He would rather cause new problems than solve the ones already there. The only difference between him and Duo was that Duo was encouraging destruction. From whatever angle you looked at, Duo was the source of all evil.

"Wait, what was that you said?" Duo said. His laughter stopped abruptly.

"You're not doing anything to solve the problem," Trowa said with exasperation. It was true. He had to say it. Nobody else would.

"So I see," Duo replied with a serious tone of voice. Susie, seeming to be aware of the change in mood, left quietly.

Duo stood up and placed his palms flat on the table as if to support the upper half of his body. Trowa just thought he was preparing to scream.

"Don't act all mighty like you know everything because you weren't there," Duo growled. "You haven't woken up one day to find him trying to patch up a massive wound by himself. You didn't have to go through the trouble to convince him that he needed to go to the hospital. You weren't left worrying half the night as he bled all over the sheets."

By then, Duo was breathing so heavily Trowa wondered just how much of the details Duo left out whenever he talked carelessly about Quatre's problems. All the contempt, confusion and anger were written all over his face. Trowa didn't dare interrupt.

"You didn't lie awake every night wondering what kind of trouble he's going to get himself into. He never begged you to hurt him, never pleaded with you. You never fucked him the way he wanted you to and then suddenly realize that you actually hurt the person you loved. You never watched him cry in pain and thank you for what you did to him all at the same time. You never watched yourself turn into a monster."

Trowa leaned back, a result of having Duo's very angry face come too close to his own. His chair scratched against the lab's linoleum floor before falling backward. Trowa almost lost his balance if not for his last minute grip on his desk. As it was, his aloof pretense could not withstand the barrage of words. Despite all the interesting Quatre facts Duo had provided him with over the time he'd known the other, none were more significant than this because this was not just about Quatre. This one was about Duo and what better way to understand Quatre than through Duo.

"I don't know what you're looking for but I think I'd like to at least keep my peace of mind knowing that the person I love won't ask me to do something that will destroy me while he's both happily and not so happily being mutilated in the process. You've never done the dirty job yourself so you'll never know what it's like. Don't try to act so smug like you've got it all figured out."

Duo never gave Trowa the chance to say anything more. By the time he regained his bearings and recovered from the shock, Duo was already gone.

oOo

At 10pm and counting, Trowa could not get himself to stop from having second thoughts. He was waiting, as planned, at Quatre's kitchen after having entered through the secret passage Quatre himself had told him about some time ago. After following the other around for weeks in the most painstaking way, Trowa had figured out the flexible and ever-changing schedule the busy man kept. With that, and Heero's helpful, albeit grisly, tactic, Trowa was able to predict that Quatre would head straight for home today. It was just in time for him to observe the effects of Q30ZO withdrawal. He'd tested it out with some of his mice and had so far found no apparent anomalies aside from periods of total paralysis. The paralysis had been temporary and by no means fatal.

"Hopefully not fatal to humans either," Trowa whispered to himself as he shifted into a more comfortable position behind a chair.

He checked his watch before his thoughts strayed to Duo. Everything the other said had been bothering him the entire day. He had to give the guy some respect. He didn't know what he would have done given the same situation. Still, he reminded himself that he had his own way of dealing with things and he was going to go through with it no matter what.

It didn't take long before his target made his entrance. Trowa heard the sound of keys being dropped on a desk before the sound of very loud, very angry music followed. The surprise brought on by the assault to his ear drums caused him to fall backward, the chair he was hanging on to scratching against the floor in protest. Thankfully, the music was loud enough to swallow any sounds he made. Quatre made no attempt to check the anomaly in the kitchen. Instead, he started cursing out loud. Trowa blinked. This one was new.

"It has to be in there somewhere," Quatre said with a growl as he entered the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from his fridge. After taking a swig of the clear liquid, he began cursing again. Trowa wrote that down on his little notepad. It seemed that when deprived of his drug, Quatre became thirsty. In fact, he was thirsty enough that he grabbed another two bottles from the fridge after downing the first. That and he became cranky and a little vulgar. These were all interesting points.

"Shit," Quatre said while pumping his left fist. The disappearing bruise on the whole right side of his face seemed to be flaring to life. The almost deafening music in the background matched perfectly with his current mood.

Trowa continued to watch with mild curiosity. He began to worry, however, when the opened bottle of water slipped from Quatre's hand. The half-filled bottle rolled just enough so that it was a few feet away from him. Trowa stayed still. Quatre looked too preoccupied with his clumsy hand to pick up the fallen bottle.

"Dumb hand," Quatre scolded before hitting it against the counter. It looked like he was trying to get it to cooperate with him although the stubborn hand remained motionless. That was when Quatre began to sweat. It was almost too strange when droplets began to drip down his collar almost out of nowhere. Quatre used his other hand to loosen his tie.

Leaning in for a closer look, Trowa was unprepared for another cursing session. Quatre was pissed alright. He was now hitting his unresponsive hand repeatedly against the counter. It was only unfortunate that nothing was happening to it. Within minutes, his furious abuse turned into hurried breaths that were audible even with the music in the background. He was sure Quatre wanted his Q30ZO right about then. His body was obviously telling him to do something about the lack of it.

Not long after, Quatre was slouching on the counter and helplessly feeling around for a drawer. When his other functional hand successfully landed on a handle, he yanked the drawer open and grabbed something. It was Trowa's cue to withdraw from his hiding place because not long after, a very shiny knife came into view. Quatre swung the object up into the air, intending to aim it straight through his unresponsive hand if not for Trowa's all too sloppy save. Instead of hitting the hand, the knife fell to the floor barely managing to stab his foot.

"Calm down," Trowa said as he held Quatre up by his chest. His other arm was secure against both Quatre's arms to stop him from doing anything dangerous. Internally, he was scolding himself for forgetting that Quatre was not afraid of using sharp objects on himself.

"Let it pass," Trowa said next, trying to hold on tight. The very intense jerking of Quatre's body was making it difficult for him to hang on. Not only that - Quatre was still furious.

"No," he yelled, trying to get away from him. With the way he was looking with interest at the rest of the cutlery in the drawer, Trowa was afraid that he was going to take control back to his body by beating it into submission. This was not part of the plan.

As it was, Quatre was a lot stronger than he looked. He managed to break free of Trowa and was now reaching for the rest of the knives.

"Great," Trowa said before deciding that he had to give up for now. There was no other choice. He pulled out an injecting gun that was tucked behind his pants. It was already filled with a dose of Q30ZO and was ready to go. He would let him have it for now because at the moment, it looked so much better than the alternative.

"I have it! I have it," Trowa said with alarm as Quatre reached for something. He yanked the other back against his chest and looked for an opening. Unfortunately, this particular attire had no zippers up front. Cufflinks were locking Quatre's arms in and the button on his collar wouldn't give. Trowa pulled Quatre's shirt collar down as best as he could.

"Boy is this going to hurt," he murmured before injecting down Quatre's neck.

Quatre's response, of course, was to pull back. It was only natural for him to move away from the source of discomfort, making it harder for Trowa to get it all in. An extra pair of arms would have been handy at the moment, but Trowa worked with what he had. He held Quatre tighter against him, feeling the dig of the other's shoulder blades against his chest. His other hand, the one that was doing the dirty work, was trying its best to finish the job. Only his chin was holding the other's protesting head in place so that Trowa felt the whimpering breaths coming out of Quatre's mouth against his neck.

"Almost there, love," Trowa said when he noticed the contents of the injection diminish in the slowest way possible. In his mind, he kept on telling himself that it won't happen again. This was the last time Quatre was going to get Q30ZO directly out of his hands. Quatre had to stop some time. Permissive suckers such as him and Duo would have to take a step back eventually.

When the painful process was done, Trowa let go, himself feeling dizzy and unbelieving of what he did. At the back of his mind, he could hear Duo's smug voice telling him that it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Sometimes, you just couldn't help but give Quatre what he wanted even when you knew that what he wanted wasn't good for him. There was a tendency to spoil him, to try to nurture him. In the end, all it did was cause him more harm.

"How are you feeling?" Trowa said as he breathed heavily. Trying to hold Quatre down was equivalent to a one-hour aerobic session. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the same hand that still held the injecting gun.

Quatre did not respond. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he, too, breathed heavily. The shaking had stopped and so had the angry cursing, but he looked more unwell now than he did only minutes ago. The enraged singing in the background continued to disrupt the feel of the atmosphere.

Placing the injecting device on top of the counter, Trowa reached his hand out to the still unresponsive Quatre. He was surprised that his hand was shrugged off when it landed on the other's shoulder. He could only surmise that Quatre was angry. Trowa couldn't tell which one it was he was angry for but his list of transgressions was not as short as to get it right on the first guess.

"I'm sorry," he said when Quatre refused to look at him. He wasn't sorry for hiding the substances, but he was truly sorry for not going through with his plan. They were back to square one. Q30ZO was flowing through Quatre's veins once again. He was almost clean.

"Forget it," Quatre finally answered. He tried his best to regain his composure and failed when he tried to stand straight. Trowa could tell that he was dizzy from the sudden rush.

When he tried to help, Quatre pulled away from him and before he could say anything else, the other suddenly made a run for it. Trowa blinked before following him to wherever it was he intended to go. He never caught up because before he could follow Quatre all the way into his room, the bedroom door was slammed shut in his face. Trowa tried to calm down. Quatre did not hate him. He was just upset.

"Quatre," he tried to call out while knocking on the locked door. "Let me just make sure you're alright."

"No!" Quatre yelled like a five-year old. "Leave me alone!"

"Fine then. I'll wait here until you're ready to come out," Trowa said with a sigh. Camping outside Quatre's door didn't seem so bad. At least, not until he started to fall asleep.

"These kinds of things build strong, lasting relationships," he kept on murmuring to himself as his head kept on slipping from its position against the door frame. If _that_ didn't build strong, lasting relationships, then he would just have to give up his role as Quatre's favorite guy. He supposed that he could handle at least that.


	31. Part Thirty One

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Thirty-One)**

There was a lot to be said about people who didn't sleep in beds. They were a tough breed whose skill was honed with time and experience. They were to be admired for their ability to overcome neck pain and countless bodily injuries as a result of propping themselves against unnatural formations only meant for able felines and random critters.

Trowa groaned. He'd never had to sleep against a door frame before and thanks to his very first spat with Quatre, that was where he woke up that morning. He shifted his position. His throat felt hoarse from pleading all night with Quatre to forgive him. At the moment, he felt too sore to stand-up and his internal clock was telling him that it was currently within the vicinity of six am. There was still time to go back to sleep before he'd have to get up - never mind the fact that his sleeping space was uncomfortable. Quatre was probably still angry enough that he wouldn't leave his room and trample all over him just yet.

Unfortunately, his prediction had been proven inaccurate just as he was starting to doze off. As if a punishment for taking part in Quatre's circus called life, the door he'd been leaning against was swung open. Unready for the sudden action, Trowa fell head first onto the floor. From his position looking up at Quatre, the other didn't seem to be as angry as he was the day before.

"I'm sorry?" Trowa asked with an unsure tone as he stared up at his not-so-secret crush.

"Forget it," Quatre said with a sigh, kneeling down to help him. "I should be apologizing instead for my behavior last night."

Trowa shook his head as he was assisted. His brain processes were not working at the moment. Aside from the fact that he didn't sleep well, it was also a little too early in the morning for him to be awake. Quatre, however, looked ready for the day. He was already dressed impeccably in his customary shirt and tie. All that was lacking were the shoes that would soon cover his socked feet.

"Need shower and coffee," Trowa said as best as he could. The simple requests would have to do because he knew that there was no way he was going back to bed. They both had work. Thankfully, he had almost two hours to kill and discuss matters with the other.

"Sure," Quatre replied. He didn't seem fazed at all by the incomplete sentences. "Shower's right through the room. I don't keep coffee in my house. We'll have to go out for that. While we're there, we might as well have breakfast. What do you think?"

Trowa nodded, getting up from his position and walking like a zombie to his intended destination. He thought he heard a couple of bones crack as he treaded on the white carpet. Only then did he remember how creepy Quatre's room was. Even after its occupant's stay, the inside was still pristine clean, reminiscent of a disinfected hospital room. The pillows were straight and the blankets were folded so neatly you could almost imagine Quatre in the military. Thoughts of obsessive-compulsive disorder came to mind before he dismissed it. Quatre was just a neat-freak. He was a neat-freak to the extreme.

Taking his time in the shower, Trowa let the hot water run down his back to ease the tension in his muscles. As he placed both palms flat against the wet tiles, he began to notice the whiteness and complete lack of mold and mildew in his surroundings. It was like magic. The shower was spotless.

"I wish I had a bathroom this clean," he said out loud. That was right before he received an unexpected response.

"I could come over and give yours a good scrubbing if you want."

He almost jumped as he noticed his stealthy intruder. Quatre was humorless as he held a towel indicating that it was to be used after his bath. Trowa could only shift his body sideways trying to hide his bare body from Quatre's questing and very shameless eyes.

"That's right. Show me a bit more of that ass," Quatre said jokingly before he laughed. Trowa felt mortified. Why did the shower door have to be completely spotless and see-through? For once, mold and mildew sounded like a good idea if only to keep Quatre from seeing him naked.

"Relax, I've seen the whole deal before," Quatre said when he noticed the horrified silence. "I stole some of your clothes when I came over for a visit," he said next. "So I've got some clean ones ready for you. I left those by the sink."

Trowa tried to get his muddled brain to comprehend what Quatre said. He had _stolen_ his clothes? At the moment, he couldn't figure out why that was. His clothes weren't worth much.

"I like your scent," Quatre answered without prompting. Trowa blinked. Did he just hear that right?

"I'm sorry but you'll have to speed up a bit. I'd like to spend a bit more time with you before going to work."

He was currently brain dead, but Trowa understood at least that much. He nodded and then proceeded to do what he was told.

oOo

A large plate of two scrambled eggs, two sausages, two pieces of bacon, some hash browns and a thick slice of ham decorated Trowa's plate. Another plate of three hotcakes with two generous helpings of golden butter accessorized it. Trowa was pleased as he stared at that morning's breakfast. His third cup of coffee was helping the good mood as well. Quatre, on the other hand, could only blink in apparent awe. He looked like he'd never seen that much food before.

"Want some?" Trowa asked, looking over at Quatre's plate. In contrast, his favorite thief's plate had one slice of toasted whole grain bread, a fried egg, and a piece of fruit. Trowa felt famished just by looking at it. How one could survive on such a limited amount of food, he could not imagine.

"No thanks," Quatre answered before taking a sip from his glass of water. "I'd like to apologize again for last night."

"Last night?" Trowa questioned as he poured a good helping of ketchup on his hash brown and eggs. His hotcakes followed as they too were dressed with a large amount of sticky sweet maple syrup.

"Last night," Quatre emphasized as he started with his fried egg.

"Oh, last night," Trowa replied. He just couldn't get his brain to process information properly. Last night was the reason why he slept on the floor. Quatre had gone mad from his lack of his choice of drug that he'd almost stabbed himself. Trowa had caved in that night and delivered the pilfered substances.

"I'm sorry about your neck," Trowa said, only then noticing the rather large mark which was very visible even with Quatre's shirt collar buttoned up. The needle he stabbed the other with was rather thick.

"This you mean?" Quatre asked, pointing to the ugly bruise on his neck. The damage to his face done by Heero was starting to disappear, but the bruise was still very much there.

"I know you don't like having visible marks..." Trowa said before trailing off. Quatre knew what he meant.

"Don't worry about it," Quatre assured him. "I'll just tell whoever asks that you gave it to me."

"That's alright I guess," Trowa said with relief before biting on a piece of bacon. However, his chewing slowed down to a halt when he realized something very important. "Wait. They might think I..." he said, trailing off again.

"Exactly," Quatre responded with a smirk.

Trowa colored. The mark on Quatre's neck looked like a love mark. In other words, the word 'hickey' was written all over it. Sure, he wanted Quatre badly, but he was not the type to claim prowess in the form of open proof of obscenity. It had already been established that he was more timid than most.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Trowa said because he truthfully didn't know what people would say about him.

"Oh I'm sure you could have made one this evident if you were given the chance," Quatre responded, seeming to enjoy his unease. "But not to worry; I won't tell Heero about it," he continued with a wink.

Trowa blinked, trying to figure out what Heero had to do with anything before suddenly realizing that they were supposed to be an item. They still had a relationship going on despite the fact that it wasn't real. However, there was a good reason behind their pseudo-relationship.

"About the reason for that," Trowa started. He'd been meaning to talk to Quatre about Q30ZO. "You do know I won't be giving any of it back, right?" he tried to confirm. What happened the night before was a one time thing. That was the last time he would play accomplice to an addicted individual. He wanted Quatre to stop, even if that meant prying into his personal life.

"I know," Quatre said with no anger or complaint. He seemed to accept it too easily.

"Are you sure?" Trowa asked. He was skeptical and for good reason. Quatre was sly. He had a way of working around things and getting what he wanted.

"You're playing a game with me," Quatre said as a matter of fact. "You want me to work for it."

"Excuse me? That completely defeats the purpose of what I'm trying to achieve here," Trowa responded.

"I see," Quatre said before biting down on a peach and chewing. He stared thoughtfully at Trowa.

"I have two options then," he continued. "The first option would be that I play this game with you. You try to hide it wherever you want and I try to find it, which I'm sure won't be very hard for me. That, of course, will be one exciting proposition," he said with a wink. "The second option, the less fun option, would be that I listen to what you have to say and honor your request."

"I want you to stop," Trowa said immediately. He made sure that he used the word 'want' instead of 'should'. That way, it was more effective.

The purpose of the discussion was to get his thoughts through to Quatre. However, he knew that no matter how much he tried to argue, the blonde would always win. There was no choice but to stand firm. Trowa used what he knew would work best against Quatre and that was to factor himself in. Quatre had yet to deny him any of his wishes.

"Stop which one?" Quatre questioned with caution. He looked unprepared for the tenacity with which Trowa delivered his request.

"I want you to stop Q30ZO _and_ I want you to stop stealing from the labs."

Quatre did not speak, giving him the chance to explain his reasoning for his second request.

"I've seen what crawling through those pipes and squeezing through fences has done to you. You've had far more injuries trying to break in and out of the lab than what Bjork or whatever his name is has done to you."

To that, Quatre smiled. If he ever was embarrassed about his unusual preference, it was not apparent with the way he carried himself. Trowa knew he wasn't breaking through. Still, he couldn't forget the horror of not knowing how much he'd hurt Quatre during their so long ago encounter between the sheets. Perhaps, in some ways, Heero's method had some ground to it. A hard punch to knock him to his senses might have been a good plan. Quatre was stubborn when he wanted to be. He could almost imagine how the other was going to dismiss his reasoning in lieu of a more sensible sounding twist of logic.

"I could do one of two for you," Quatre answered.

Trowa continued to ponder the situation as he watched Quatre poke the middle of his fried egg. The liquid yellow pouring out was almost too entrancing for those few moments of contemplation.

"I could grant your first request although it will be hard," Quatre continued. He sounded serious now more than ever. "...But I cannot grant your second request. I have a responsibility to my family, Trowa. Those are my sisters' medications we're talking about here. That is just not negotiable."

Trowa frowned. He had an alternative method in mind, but he didn't know if it would sound feasible to the other.

"You don't have to steal them," he suggested. "I could give them to you directly."

It was only unfortunate that his suggestion was turned down without a second thought.

"It's going to be your job on the line Trowa," Quatre responded with emphasis. "I'll have none of that."

"But Duo--" Trowa tried to reason before being cut off.

"Duo knows how to clean his tracks. He's a professional. You, on the other hand, are an employee doing your job and I would love for you to continue doing your job. My sisters and I owe you a lot for all you've done."

"I can--"

"Trowa," Quatre said with a stern voice. "This is going to sound heartless, but I'm going to have to say it. I need you because you serve a purpose. The reason why I keep you happy is because I need you to do your job. You are a means to an end and nothing more. I am a flirt by nature who doesn't know any better and it's been a problem because I've been sending you all the wrong signals. I threw Heero your way to keep you out of my hair and didn't hinder Duo's recent jabs at you because they keep you away from me. That's the kind of person I am."

"You're not--"

"Trowa, how dense can you get?" Quatre interrupted him. "I'm using you!" he said with finality.

Ketchup coated scrambled eggs fell off his fork. There was something called straightforward. When one crossed the line, straightforward became more than just straightforward. It became cruelty and that was Trowa's interpretation of the statement as it echoed back and forth inside his head. Surely there should have been a better way to break it to him. This may not have been filled with malicious intent, but it resulted in the same effect. To feel used was not quite the word he would use for how he felt at that moment. He felt betrayed more than anything. Had Quatre been deceiving him all this time or was he just making everything up?

"You're," Trowa said as he placed his fork down to rest against his almost empty plate. Something was not making sense. Quatre was not telling him the whole story. There was only one response he could give.

"You're a liar," he said as he shoved red tinted scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Quatre sat back with a frown. It was obvious that it was not the response he was expecting.

"You're calling me a liar?" he said with disbelief.

Trowa did not voice his response choosing instead to nod while continuing to shove food into his mouth. It was bold of him to pick a fight, but he was not backing out of this one. It's about time he took control of the situation. Quatre had been manipulating him for too long.

"I've never been this frustrated in my entire life," Quatre said while dramatically putting his hands up in the air. If anyone was about to give up, it looked like it was going to be Quatre.

"The reason why you can't get rid of me is because you don't want to," Trowa voiced his thoughts. "You want me bad," he said with finality.

"Really," Quatre said before sitting back. He had a smirk on his face, something that said that he was not too convinced of the self-confident declaration. "You should provide plausible reasons before coming to a conclusion all of a sudden."

Trowa moved his empty plate away and placed his folded hands on the table. This speech of his had been ready for quite a while now. He just needed the courage to come right out and deliver it. Now seemed like the best time to do so.

"All your past relationships," Trowa started. "Those were based on pity."

"Oh, sure, you're psychoanalyzing me now."

"Let me finish," Trowa said curtly.

"Duo was an orphan. You funded his cause because you felt sorry for him. He fell for you because of that. What else would a compassionate person such as yourself do in a situation like that? You'd give him what he wants. He wanted you. _That's_ how you ended up with him."

"So I'm compassionate now, am I?" Quatre said with a raise of a brow. His arms were folded, a sign that he was defensive. Trowa had never seen that aspect of Quatre before and needless to say, it was a bit of a thrill to have brought out such a rare response. Surely Quatre had never been dissected this way before.

"Yes. Absolutely," he answered with no hesitation. "You are compassionate. You have an inability to look the other way when you spot someone in need even if what they need is you. Don't lie to me. You never even loved Duo."

"That's none of your business," Quatre said in a low voice. "It would be prudent of you not to give him that idea either."

"How about Wufei?" Trowa started again on a different lover. Going too far on Duo was not on his agenda. "After Wufei had lost his first wife, who do you think came in for the save? Wufei didn't even ask for your sympathy. He was simply attracted to you and you gave him exactly what he wanted. You gave him yourself."

"Now you're just starting to make me sound like whore," Quatre said with controlled anger. Their breakfasts were forgotten in lieu of the argument. Trowa could tell that Quatre was fuming and he was doing it very outwardly, something he'd never done before. Quatre had always been in control of discussions.

"I don't see why you have to turn my compliments into insults," Trowa replied. He kept his poker face on although inside, he was rejoicing at his unlikely success taking the control away from Quatre.

"I don't consider exposing my weakness a complement."

Trowa paused. This, he didn't expect.

"Weakness?" he tried to clarify. "You think compassion is a weakness?"

"For me it is," Quatre responded without loosing his momentum. He'd yet to calm down.

"My parents made me for a purpose and that is to protect my sisters, nothing more. Now, if you will excuse me," he said as he stood up.

Trowa was not going to let him go that easily.

"You're not going anywhere," he said as he grabbed on to a wrist. They still had not reached an agreement on the Q30ZO and stealing situation. Trowa may have been concentrated on the argument, but he had not forgotten his purpose.

"Let go of me," Quatre snarled.

Trowa noticed the quiet murmurs of the people in the establishment before hearing the unmistakable click of a camera. He was sure it was going to appear on the papers the following day, but he was hoping it wasn't Heero at the other end of the lens. If it was, they would have a lot of talking to do.

"I dearly hope you're not doing this to embarrass me a second time. Being on the headline twice in one week is not my idea of fun," Quatre warned.

"I've been that road before and I'm sure it's anything but fun," Trowa responded before sending a dirty look to the direction of the camera clicking. Thankfully, Heero was nowhere to be seen.

"Then I don't understand why you can't let go of my hand," Quatre continued with irritation.

"My hand on your wrist is keeping you from running away. You haven't agreed to honor _both_ my requests yet."

"I had no plans of honoring _any_ of them," Quatre emphasized. "I need one to achieve another. Without Q30ZO, I can't function properly and when I can't function properly I can't make my frequent visits to the lab. That much should have been obvious from the start," Quatre said in a soft voice to keep their conversation as private as possible.

When Trowa frowned, Quatre yanked his hand away forcefully, dropped a rather large bill on the table, and walked out of the near empty restaurant. Trowa sighed as he rubbed his face. This was harder than he thought. He could only think of one winner during today's fight - the waiter who would receive Quatre's very generous 300 percent tip.


	32. Part Thirty Two

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Thirty-Two)**

Quatre stood against a pole. The wounds on his arm gave off a dull ache as he leaned on it. He braced himself against his only support with a shaky breath. He'd been walking for the past thirty minutes having decided not to drive his car. It was dangerous in his condition. There was no telling how many people he'd plow over if he lost control of the wheel.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember which direction he was heading. A fuzzy map came to mind. His sister's home was not too far away. If he could make it then he figured that he could make the delivery and then figure out what he was going to do with himself later.

He hadn't even taken two full steps when he fell forward into a sturdy chest. The cologne of the stranger smelled strangely familiar, which caused him to shove at his savior.

"Shit, what is wrong with you?" the familiar voice said.

"Oh, just walking around," Quatre answered offhandedly while trying to steady himself. It was obvious even to him that he wouldn't be able to remain standing for very long.

"In the back alleys at your condition?"

Quatre nodded, looking into the decidedly pissed of f expression of Heero Yuy. The guy look incensed enough to knock him out and carry him indoors. Had he been at full capacity, Quatre would have either provoked him or ran for his intended destination.

"I have to make a delivery. I can't be seen walking around the main streets and I can't drive while I'm like this," Quatre said as his footing faltered. He was forced to hang on to Heero's muscled arm as he began to shake. "Patricia," he specified. Somehow, he hoped that the explanation was enough for Heero to understand.

"Patricia might need you, but you need a doctor."

Quatre did not answer and instead closed his eyes as his shaking increased. Realistically, he wouldn't be able to make it past the next intersection and his sister's house wasn't getting any closer. Still, he had to be stubborn. Otherwise, the person who was relying on him would be in danger. Quatre concentrated while he used his imagination to come up with ways to get to his destination in the shortest possible time.

It seemed, however, that Heero was going to have none of his scheming. Before he could even protest his body was slung over a sturdy shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Heero did not seem to sympathize with his cause as he was carried somewhere he hoped wasn't the emergency room. Whatever happened to him in the hospital would surely be all over the news. His addiction would be out in the open and it would destroy his family's name.

"Heero, don't give me away," Quatre pleaded, knowing very well that Heero knew what he had meant by it. He hoped that the other would pick a discreet location, somewhere Quatre was comfortable, around people he could trust.

With no further requests coming to mind, he allowed himself to give in to the shaking. With his body betraying him, there was no use but to stop fighting.

It had taken a few minutes, but he had managed to drone out all the occurrences around him. For a time, all was forgotten and all that existed was the view of Heero's back and the thumping of his chest against the other's back. Quatre would have continued his meditation had he not heard another familiar voice talking to Heero. The deep, quiet inquiry coming from their newest companion seemed to be the trigger to bring him back to reality. The concern resonating from the soothing timbre made him think of the aftermath of waves crashing against sharp rocks.

"I found him walking around in the back streets," he heard Heero say.

"What's wrong with him? His body's jerking wildly," the quiet voice inquired.

Quatre knew that he was still slung over Heero's shoulder and shaking madly from what the voice described. He wanted to find out who it was Heero was talking to and so the other obliged him. He turned around so that Quatre's upper half was now exposed to whoever it was he had been talking to.

"Quatre?" came the alarm from the person he figured would be at the other end. He quickly identified it as Trowa. He could recognize that voice uttering his name anytime. "You didn't tell me it was him right away," he heard Trowa accuse.

"If this were any other guy, I would've brought him straight to the hospital," Heero responded dryly. "My place is too far from here. Is it alright if I dump him on you until his little spell passes?"

"Of course, of course," Trowa said. Quatre could tell that he was near frantic.

"Great. Now try to find me a rope. I'll take him inside."

After Heero's instruction, Quatre heard no more talking. His body swung a bit as he was brought inside Trowa's apartment. Quatre recognized the flooring, having been there a few times before. He found his view shift past mountains of books and random objects on the floor before he was deposited, quite roughly, into Trowa's bed. When the mattress hit his back, his shaking began anew.

"You've been overdoing it," Heero said with an accusing stare. "I'm going to tie you down to the bed so you don't end up slugging anyone unintentionally or falling off the bed. Trowa's deeply concerned if you couldn't already tell. I didn't want to bring you here, but I had no other choice."

Quatre nodded as he listened to what Heero had to say. With the way he was loosing control over his body's movements, it was best to let Heero decide what should be done. At the same time, he couldn't help but frown, realizing that Heero was right. Trowa would probably be terrified.

"I don't want you making any trouble for him," Heero warned. "You better stay put and do as he says. I'll deliver the medication to Patricia's place. I know where she lives."

Heero held his hand out, waiting for Quatre to hand him the vial.

"She n-needs m-me," Quatre forced out as he shook. Heero had to hold him down because he couldn't stop his body's wild movements.

"Quatre," Heero hissed into his ear. "I don't give a shit if one of your sisters has got a little cough. Their well-being should be the last thing on your mind right now. The least they could do is understand that you need to lie down for a bit when you're this messed up. I'll deliver what she needs. You let yourself rest and allow Trowa to take care of you. I'll call when I get there."

Shaking his head, Quatre didn't know what else to do. He supposed Heero was the next best option when he couldn't go himself. He could only hope that they understood that he wasn't slacking off. He probably looked like someone from the insane asylum right now.

Reaching into his pant pocket, Quatre retrieved the precious vial and handed it to Heero.

"Trowa," Heero said and it was only then that Quatre realized that Trowa finally made his appearance. He looked apprehensive as he held a borrowed rope in his hand. His neighbors were probably wondering what it was for.

"Trowa, I want you to tie his wrists and ankles down to the bed as tight as you can. Blondie over here is an expert in taking out knots."

Quatre managed to roll his eyes despite his excessive trembling.

"I also think he's got a few wounds on either one of his arms. They're seeping past his jacket. I'll just be out for a little while to deliver something to his sister. Do you think you could handle taking care of him? He's a handful."

Quatre watched Trowa's reaction to Heero's instructions and wondered just how much Trowa heard. The chemist was looking directly at him with the most shaken expression he'd ever seen on the guy. He nodded every now and then, but he was more or less concentrated on Quatre. Quatre sent a smile back his way before dropping his head on the pillow and going with the direction his body was taking him. He knew Heero was having a hard time holding him down, but he just couldn't stop it. The withdrawal effects of the drug were taking over him.

"I'll take care of him," he heard Trowa say with resolve. A few seconds later, he felt Heero's body lifting off from his to be replaced by Trowa's gentle hold. He felt himself stiffen as he tried his best to control his movements. He almost failed as a wayward hand brushed against Trowa's hair. Had it hit his actual head, there would have been a loud smack.

"S-sor-ry," Quatre said with a whimper. He hoped that Trowa would tighten his hold. Heero was right. The possibility of him slugging someone was high. "Ju-ust tie..."

Quatre couldn't say anymore as his nerves flared with life. He felt millions of tiny nerve endings burst out all at once. He buried his head into a pillow, hoping that Trowa wouldn't notice - not that it wasn't already obvious. He breathed hard, trying his best to stay quiet but failing miserably. He must have been scaring the hell out of Trowa. The poor guy probably couldn't tell what was happening to him.

"Quatre, try to calm down," Trowa whispered into his ear with the same composure he spoke with. He felt the other envelope him, lifting his upper body off the mattress. Soothing circles were delivered against his back for which he was grateful for because it distracted him from the pain even if the shuddering continued.

Trowa divested him of his jacket and his button-down shirt to survey the damage he had done to himself. Quatre suspected that it looked unpleasant because he didn't get the time to clean out the wounds before leaving his place. Bits of tree parts were probably still embedded in his skin. As it was, Trowa was the one who was going to patch him up again.

"H-hit against t-tre-ee," Quatre explained.

Trowa frowned, but didn't say anything. A first aid kit appeared out of his unoccupied hand a few seconds later. Diligently, like the way he handled the vials at work, Trowa worked around him, tying his wrists and ankles up and attaching each of the ends to the steel frame on the underside of the bed.

Unintelligible sounds came out of Quatre's mouth, not in protest but because he couldn't control himself. His right shoulder decided to act up, almost raising his entire upper body before landing back on the mattress again and again. Although he didn't consciously command his body to do so, the effort put into doing it still tired him.

"It will pass," Trowa assured him, picking up tweezers before picking at the pieces still left in his arm. Quatre tried his best not to make it too difficult for him while he worked. He waited for Trowa to finish as patiently as he could. There was still the matter of making sure that Heero had made it to his sister's place.

"M-messing up your be-eeed," Quatre managed to say. He just hated how he sounded.

Trowa sighed, pausing in his current duty. Quatre became worried that he'd said something to upset the other. With barely following lips, he tried to utter several words in apology, but ended up moving more frantically than when he started. Frustrated and unable to say what he wanted to, he gave up trying to say anything as he gave in to the twitching of his leg. He felt the veins in his head pop with the effort he took to regain control over himself.

"Don't try to stop it," Trowa advised him, relinquishing his hold on his arm to run a hand through his damp hair. "And don't worry about it. I could take these sheets to the laundry. Don't even think about it."

Resigned to being unable to communicate properly, Quatre nodded instead. He closed his eyes, almost loosing himself to the shaking when Trowa's phone rang. It could have only been Heero. He heard Trowa mention something about him being unable to talk just yet, which caused Quatre to look at him quickly. Trowa had no choice but put the receiver against his ear.

"Alana wants to talk to you," Heero's voice resounded over the phone. A few seconds later, the voice of an angry woman boomed from the other end of the line.

"Why am I not surprised?" Alana said. Her loud voice and huff of annoyance could be heard clearly over the phone.

"S-s-oo-r-ry," Quatre forced out. All other explanations had to wait until he was capable of actually holding a conversation.

The apology wasn't accepted it seemed because not long after his apology, he received a scolding about talking properly, coming when he promised to, and various other complaints his brain could not process at the moment. Normally, he would take the comments all in, but his body had different ideas. It screamed in frustration, the frustration he himself could not release causing him to spasm and scream quite loudly into the phone.

"Quatre Raberba Winner, how dare you!"

Quatre could only whimper in response.

Noticing his distress, Trowa took a hold of the receiver and exited the room, probably to say something to his sister. Quatre didn't like it, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it at his state of being. He could hear his sister screaming and Trowa responding in a very calm, quiet manner like he always did. None of it was reassuring.

"Tr-o-wa-a," Quatre called, hoping to salvage the situation. He was surprised when Trowa immediately answered to his call.

"She's fine Quatre," Trowa said with a tired sigh. "Patricia just had a dizzy spell."

There was still an angry voice coming from the other end of the line, but Trowa immediately cut it off. Putting the receiver back in the unit, he went back to Quatre's side to tend to his wounds.

"Heero will handle it," Trowa reassured him.

Grateful but utterly despondent that he couldn't properly thank Trowa; he turned his head from side to side, trying to shake it into cooperation. In the end, it only made him dizzy. With nothing else left to do, he closed his eyes waiting for the trembling to come to an end.

Not even a minute passed when Trowa spoke again.

"You lied about lying," he said.

Quatre opened one eye. Now was definitely not the time to discuss such a thing. He did not want to admit that he was caught lying, but the evidence was all over the place.

"Hnn," he whimpered as he was still unable to speak coherently. Why did Trowa have to interrogate him now when he was incapacitated and without the ability to defend himself?

"You flat out lied to me," Trowa said again. Quatre really couldn't tell if he was angry or if he was simply stating fact. From his strange angle as his head jerked against a pillow, he couldn't read the expression on the other's face. Since when did Trowa resort to dirty methods? The best he could do was lay there and listen.

"I would give those symptoms another hour at least," Trowa said next. The icy formality in his voice was a bit disturbing. Gone was the concern for which Quatre had been worried about when he first entered. All he could see was the brilliant scientist reading his lab rat's symptoms.

"You _did_ mean to give it up after all."

Trowa leaned forward so that his face was aligned with Quatre's.

"Now that that smart mouth of yours is incapacitated, it's time for me to talk."

"Wh---at the h-he-ell?" he was able to utter before saliva ran passed his mouth. Heero would surely profit from pictures of him looking the way he was.

Trowa assisted him and wiped away his mess before continuing with the wound on his arm.

"You hate being told what to do," Trowa said as he worked a bandage around his arm. "In essence, you are one wild, smart-mouthed brat with a crazy mission."

Just what was Trowa doing to him? Quatre could smell his breath, feel the touch of his hands tightening around him, and hear the sound of his voice resonating with strict command. Quatre thought it was the sickest and sexiest he'd ever seen of Trowa.

"From now on, everything goes _my_ way."

It was the perfect scenario. He was tied up tight, wounded, and at Trowa's mercy. It was like fantasy turned reality. Too bad Trowa didn't have such a perverted mind as he had. He licked his lips in reflex. If only he could claw at his bindings and jump Trowa... or better yet - have Trowa jump him. Quatre tried to move upwards toward Trowa as the other suddenly moved away.

"I knew you were into me," Trowa said as he sat up and stretched his arms.

Quatre was never more incensed. The problem was that he couldn't commence an attack - verbal or otherwise - since he was still unwell. His body shook further as if his angered words were transferred over to his movements. Trowa was making fun of him! That just wasn't right.

Trowa chuckled before making the finishing touches to the bandage on his arm. He tidied up and then delivered a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

"I was only teasing," he said.

Quatre couldn't help but pout.

"That was for the incident in the restaurant," he continued. "I can't always have you win an argument now can I?"

Quatre's teeth grinded as he tried to protest. He did not appreciate being Trowa's source of amusement. It was supposed to be the other way around.

"...and while I'm at it and there's no way for you to interrupt me," Trowa said next. "Heero and I are not an item. We only did it for reasons I'll discuss later. I'm in love with you Quatre. I wish you'd allow me to take care of you just like this."

Beads of sweat dripped down Quatre's forehead into the pillow under his head. What Trowa had said took guts and the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. He did not know what to say or think. How was he supposed to react to the admission? Sure, he'd had people say the same so many times before, but all those people were not Trowa. There must have been something about Trowa that made it significant. Otherwise, he wouldn't be at a loss what to say.

"I'm not the most ideal person to be with," he said without realizing that his shaking had stopped. He felt both shamed and honored to have been picked by someone as normal and gentle as Trowa. This wasn't supposed to happen. Trowa should have run the other way the moment he found out what a freak he was underneath all the glamour.

"Ideal based on whose standards?" Trowa questioned. The curious blink in his eyes made him look more innocent, like a naive fool jumping into something he did not understand.

"Trowa," Quatre said with frustration. "Why is it so hard to get rid of you?"

"I suppose it's because you're the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me," Trowa said with a tiny smile as he wiped the sweat off his still dripping forehead.

"You're out of your mind," Quatre said with an indignant tone. Secretly, he found Trowa's admission rather sexy. Everything about Trowa was sexy.

"So are you," Trowa replied before pausing in his actions. His aura became serious as he spoke his next words. "I thought you should know... the final stage of withdrawal involves temporary paralysis."

Quatre knew this, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear. He'd been a busybody all his life and being subjected to involuntary immobility was going to be more painful than hitting his arm against a tree when he'd felt it go numb. Why was he doing this to himself? He could continue with his life the way it was and drop dead a few years earlier than most. He didn't have to subject himself to agonizing withdrawal.

"I'll take care of you," Trowa said so suddenly that it interrupted his line of thought. "Isn't that enough?"

Quatre did not answer, only closed his eyes with every intention of falling asleep. No way. Nobody took care of Quatre Winner but himself.


	33. Part Thirty Three

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Part Thirty-Three)**

Alright. So he felt guilty. The guy had the heart to patch up his self-inflicted arm injury and watch over him while he drooled and twitched like someone from the insane asylum being subjected to electrocution. It was not pretty. In fact, Quatre thought it was gross. He was embarrassed at having looked the way he did and Trowa had been nice enough not to mention the incident even in passing.

"Boy, would I have loved to been there!"

Unfortunately, not everyone was as nice as Trowa. Some people found it amusing, hilarious even.

"I'm sure you would," he responded with barely any protest. Duo's chirpy attitude wasn't helping him get over his slump. Life without Q30ZO was hell. Any other time, he would have been running through the mazes in the lab. Today, he was lounging lazily on top of 6 CPUs equally spaced out. Duo said it was hot. He just thought it was a waste of time. He'd taken the trouble to dress in his usual 'criminal attire' as Trowa liked to call it and for what? He was just laying there trying to get his body to move the way he wanted it to.

"What's up with the attitude? You've been no fun recently."

Quatre rolled his eyes. Duo always said he wasn't any fun withdrawal effects or no withdrawal effects being factored in. He always said he was far too serious. Perhaps it was true. Just what _did_ Trowa see in him? Oh, right, apparently he really _was_ hot.

"Giving it up is killing me," Quatre groaned for the fifth time since he landed his barely functioning rumpus in Duo's own little personal space in Quinn labs. He was lucky to have landed there and not anywhere else.

"So why give it up in the first place?"

Quatre turned his head to look at Duo. His former lover and forever admirer bit and pulled on a liquorish. He chewed with much effort as he stared back at him, the rest of the long, entwined treat hanging off his fisted hand. The question did not demand a serious answer, but Quatre felt obliged to give him one.

"I don't know," he said slowly and it was the truth.

Why, indeed, would he subject himself to that much suffering? His plan all along had been to live life in the fast lane and make sure that all his sisters were cured by the time he died and he knew for sure he was going to die young. He estimated that he'd be too tired to figure out what to do with the rest of his life after he'd served his purpose. There was no reason for him to give in to the whim of a gorgeous chemist who's done everything to keep his family well.

"Gorgeous chemist?" Quatre questioned himself forgetting that Duo was still within hearing range.

"Aha!" his lively friend said with emphasis. "You're doing it because Trowa asked you to."

"That's absurd," Quatre answered half-heartedly. The whole explanation couldn't have been that simple. Would he really do everything Trowa asked him to? If so, was he some mindless fool falling trap to the first hot piece of ass that came his way? He had never been so easily influenced the way he was now.

"I don't know Quat. You've been using it religiously since you were, what - four years old? You had to have known how messed up you'd become once you gave it up. There has to be a pretty good explanation of why you did."

Quatre let his arm hang off the side while a leg slid upward so that his foot was placed flat against one of the CPUs. At least his mobility was increasing. He'd taken the rest of the day off just because he couldn't get his body to function properly.

"I know this isn't intentional man, but you're really turning me on."

Quatre blinked. Heck, maybe that would work.

"Want to do me?"

Duo choked on the piece of liquorish he was chewing. He punched his chest a couple of times and out came the half-chewed treat.

"Are you out of your mind?" Duo said with the same dramatics he usually spoke with. "Of course I would!"

A moment passed. Duo continued to sit where he was. Quatre stared at him with a 'what are you waiting for' look.

"What?" Duo said like he didn't know what was going on.

"Well?"

Duo bit and pulled on the liquorish in his hand.

"I don't know," he said while chewing. "I've developed a bit of a phobia when it comes to sleeping with you. I mean, sure, I'd do you any day if I weren't as messed up as I was. I'd be doing you all over the floor, bend you over one of the CPUs... you name it."

"Thanks for the complement," Quatre said dryly before turning his attention from Duo to the ceiling.

"This used to be my playground," he said as he stared at the funky combination of flat panes, light bulbs, sprinklers, and vents lining the ceiling above. It had been so fun, even more fun than copulation which in truth only served the purpose of tiding him over until the next hit of Q30ZO.

"Your playground was my hell."

Quatre blinked before turning his attention back to Duo.

"Trowa must feel the same way you know," he continued. He didn't look at him as he said it but at his monitor. It made it look as if he was busy and simply stating a non-compromising observation. "But then again, he'd never really seen you bleeding all over the bathroom tiles while patching yourself up and cursing to the tune of some satanic sounding heavy metal."

"I'm sorry Duo," Quatre said for the first time since they'd met. He turned his attention back to the ceiling as he thought about his statement. Duo deserved his apology. It was about time. The guy had put up with him all these years and not once did he grow any hatred for him for all he'd done. Trowa was partially right when he'd psychoanalyzed his relationship with Duo, but there was one important fact he forgot to mention. He'd used Duo for selfish purposes. He relied on him too much but pushed him farther backwards all at once. He'd been more complicated than most of the chemical formulas Trowa worked with. He had been a burden.

"Sorry?" Duo questioned tapping a pen against his monitor. "I don't need an apology from you. All I need is that eye-catching hunk of a man you threw Trowa's way."

Quatre raised an eyebrow. Duo didn't like being emotional, but what he did like was changing the topic when it suited him. If he wanted to talk about Heero then Quatre would go ahead and talk about Heero.

"Here's an interesting discovery," Quatre started. He was sure Duo would love the news. "It seems that Heero and Trowa never really did go out. They were only using their relationship as a front." He made sure to leave out the part where he had inkling that Heero really did have a thing for Trowa.

"Oh come on! Don't tell me he wanted to make you jealous."

Quatre shrugged.

"He never really did explain why," he said and he didn't even want to hear the reasoning behind it. To him, that was something between Heero and Trowa.

"That is the lamest and oldest trick in the book."

Quatre shrugged again. Kudos to Trowa for wanting him that bad.

"So, did it work?" Duo asked with a curious look.

"Like hell it did," Quatre responded. He didn't ever remember being jealous enough to acknowledge it. Still, what had really caused him much distress was handing Trowa over to someone else. People kept on telling him he looked horribly depressed. Somehow, he had a feeling that it had something to do with that incident.

"I," Quatre started again before his earlier reaction to the question could be taken as true. "I guess I missed him a little."

Suddenly he recalled life after he decided to part with Trowa. His job was his job and his duty to his family was all that mattered. It had been what he wanted, but after Trowa, it had been anything but what he could handle. He remembered days when he would sneak in the labs not to steal any medication but to check up on the chemist. He watched him as he worked diligently, ate in a bit of a childish way, baby-talked his lab mice when no one was looking, and so much more quirks that Quatre found endearing. There must have been something about Trowa. Then again, Trowa might have just been himself and it was him who had a problem.

"You're in love with him."

Quatre fell off his perfectly balanced perch on top of the lined-up CPUs.

"I really hate to say this," Duo continued as Quatre tried to gather himself. "But you've got it bad. The first time, I thought it was just a one time thing. I knew that you slept with him just because you felt like it. It's not like I expected much after that, but stuff happened and now you're in love."

Quatre stood but made no move to deny Duo's statement. He looked at the ceiling once again.

"I have to go," he said quickly before climbing up a wall and disappearing into a tiny hole.

"Great! Just when I was getting serious," he heard Duo holler behind him. The rest of their discussion would have to wait. For now he had a job to do, a new objective he had to complete.

Even with his eyes closed, Quatre could discern the right path to take. A dark enclosure was never a problem for him. Years of remodeling had done nothing to deter him from accessing the building he knew by heart. He was a bit apprehensive when he'd decided to break into the labs this morning because the fear of his body loosing the ability to move and right in the middle of a narrow vent was always in his mind. It was different right now, however. He had something important to do.

Closing his eyes and recounting the number of rooms he had to pass through, Quatre crawled easily through the metal coverings without a sound. When he figured that he'd reached his destination, he pushed a small opening downward and landed quietly on the linoleum floor below. Trowa was the first to greet him and he was anything but happy. Trowa was frowning and that was very rare.

"Hey gorgeous," Quatre greeted with a playful wave. Trowa still made no move to greet him. "Look, I didn't come here for---"

"Q30ZO? You won't find it here," Trowa cut him off. The look of disappointment on his face was making Quatre feel guilty, so he did the only thing he could. He looked away.

"You didn't let me finish," he said. He was upset that he was not given the chance to explain.

Trowa's lab had the only access to the main lab. In other words, to get to old Quinn's personal lab, he had to go through Trowa's. It was the old geezer's lab that had his wonder drug available in large quantities. Time was running short. He could feel his muscles loosing the ability to hold him up. He gave his body another 30 minutes or so before it would betray him.

"You're not going anywhere," Trowa said with authority.

"But---"

"Quatre," Trowa warned.

Quatre huffed. That was it. If this guy wasn't going to let him through then there was no choice but to incapacitate him. While it may have been true that Trowa was the only person working for Quinn who'd escaped his expert hits, it was not true that he was going to escape being hit forever, especially if he was being as stubborn as he was now.

Quatre swung his fist to the direction of Trowa's right cheek, but it was easily caught and held by a surprisingly strong arm. The guy really did work out. Quatre smirked before swinging the other fist toward the direction of the other cheek. His wrist was caught and held there as well. Even with two hands held captive to Trowa's strong hold, Quatre did not worry.

"Please take care of my sisters," he said with sincerity he didn't think himself capable of as he brought his face close to Trowa's. As expected, the request made his captor lose his guard. Quatre took the opportunity to attack.

"I'm sorry Trowa," he said before kneeing his unprepared stomach. He'd been planning that particular hit from the beginning. He didn't do this kind of thing all his life for nothing.

Trowa fell to the ground while clutching his most likely bruised stomach. He rolled to his side and groaned in pain. Quatre winced. He couldn't estimate his own strength sometimes and now he felt bad for hitting Trowa. However, it only took a second for him to contemplate what he'd done because before he could even think of assisting Trowa, he fled for his next passageway. He could only hope that Trowa was fine. As it was, he was running out of time.

"C'mon," he cheered himself on as he began to sweat. The effort it took to command his limbs to crawl along was becoming extraordinary. Fortunately, his destination came into view not long after. With effort not normally used for pushing unscrewed vents, Quatre shoved with all his might. The sound of the metal as it came clattering to the ground more or less caught the attention of the only person working in that particular lab.

"Quatre, how nice of you to visit."

"I have no time for you old man," Quatre responded as he tried to look for something long and sturdy. His eyes landed quickly on a metal rod the purpose of which he did not care. Heading for the batch of newly brewing Q30ZO, Quatre swung with everything he had. Yellowish liquid splashed and flowed down gigantic tubes to pool at the once clean linoleum floor.

"What is wrong with you?" Dr. Quinn asked him in slight terror and obvious surprise. "This substance keeps you alive boy. What are you thinking?"

"I'm trying not to think right now," Quatre answered. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

He continued to swing at anything that even resembled his once beloved drug. Even the machinery that made its existence possible was smashed until sparks of electricity filled the room. It didn't take long for the old doctor to pull the fire alarm in fear that they were both going to fry due to the mix of liquid and live wiring in the secluded room.

"Trowa wants me to stop," Quatre voiced in the middle of an unsuccessful swing. His arm muscles were starting to give up on him. "And what Trowa wants," he continued with a labored breath. "Trowa gets."

It only took a moment for the tightly sealed doors of the lab to open and for the building's maintenance crew to start filtering in to try to do what they could. Old Quinn was moved a safe distance from the spill. Quatre was also in the process of being assisted when he suddenly pushed the assisting person toward the now safe old man. With the man temporarily out of his bearings, Quatre made a run for it in the building's hallways. Running as fast as he could, he flew past many stunned faces one of which he recognized as Duo's.

"You really are out of your mind!" he heard Duo yell form a distance before a familiar chuckle followed.

Quatre did not know who else saw him because his main focus was on getting himself home. Almost flying into his car, Quatre drove like a lunatic through the streets. He passed through the long winding driveway that leads to his home hidden at the top of a hill. Parking the car in front of his place in a fashion that would be deemed improper, he ran for his room where he quickly dialed a number he knew by reflex. It was his niece who was the first to answer.

"Give the phone to your mother," he said without greeting.

"Geez Uncle Quat. Where's the hello?" the young girl answered.

"Caitlin, your mother, _now_," he repeated.

"Sheesh. Okay, okay... if you really want to get scolded that bad I'll go get my mother."

Quatre tapped his fingers impatiently against his side table. Thoughts of his wonder drug came to mind. It was plentiful and easy to access. He could have taken a shot of it easily. He really was out of his mind.

"Quatre?" a voice picked up as he continued tapping.

"Stella," he said with urgency. "If you need anything, look for Trowa Barton."

"What?"

"Trowa Barton," Quatre repeated as he let himself fall on his bed.

"And where will _you_ be?"

"I don't know," Quatre said honestly. They'd probably find his malnourished, prostate body rotting away on the same bed he was laying on at that moment. There was also a possibility he was going to be picked up by an ambulance and delivered to a convalescent hospital where he was going to spend the rest of his life staring at a white ceiling unable to move a muscle.

"Quatre, stop this foolishness at once," he heard as his hand let go of the receiver. Time was running out for him.

Slowly, as if time finally dawdled long enough for him to take notice, each of his limbs stopped and gave up its battle. Exhaustion set in just as a familiar source of delight crossed his line of sight. In the wall facing his bed was a portrait of Trowa from a picture his sister had so generously given him not too long ago. Little Trowa, butt-naked and glaring was pulling a red wagon with baby cubs as his passengers. His complete backside, in what has turned out in adulthood to be one of his most essential assets, was exposed and his turned head was sending a glare to anyone who was looking. Quatre allowed himself to smile lazily as he stared at the picture. He could just imagine grown-up Trowa giving him the same look earlier. It was adorable, something he would never tire of. How appropriate that it was what he was to stare at last as his body finally gave way to paralysis.


	34. Epilogue

**The Game of Hide and Seek (Epilogue)**

Walking down busy hallways smelling of disinfectant, Trowa let himself think back to the trying three months that had passed. He'd gotten tired of the same room accessed by the same elevator on the same building where all but one cheery face greeted him everyday. Worse yet, that same cheery face had been hitting on him since day one. Nurse Greta, as she liked to be called, had the pleasure of seeing him everyday at exactly four thirty pm as he visited his soon-to-be-lover.

It had taken three months. To him, three months had gone by quickly, but he was sure that to Quatre it felt like an eternity. Thinking to months back, Trowa would never have imagined Quatre doing what he did to land himself in a hospital. All he could focus on back then was the fact that his dream date had kneed him in the stomach. It was something his mind told him was an impossibility. The lab's frequent thief had the reputation of leaving only him unscathed as he caused commotion within the normally orderly environment. Then again, he had reason to hit him. He didn't exactly give Quatre the chance to explain.

Once he'd gotten past the semi-beating, Trowa was able to gather himself in time to witness his favorite blonde run recklessly in the middle of the hallway for all to see. He wondered what had gotten into him and wondered further if he'd finally been caught. He almost expected the authorities to be on his tail. Instead, he was lead outside with the rest of the company's employees as a safety precaution. That was when he found out that Quatre had caused a dangerous spill.

He had wrecked Dr. Quinn's lab. The reason for the strange behavior was later revealed when Duo caught up with him.

"I guess you really do leave an impact on people," Duo had said with a hand on his shoulder. "He annihilated the Q30ZO production lab like it was nothing to him. I guess this means that you get exactly what you want."

After the incident, it took him another week to realize that Quatre was no longer making appearances, not even in the orphanage he visited with Duo every Saturday. He'd gotten worried enough that he dropped by Quatre's sanctuary only to find the other laying sideways on his bed with the same black outfit he had been wearing that day. He was unmoving, like a corpse waiting to be found. Trowa had been frantic then and had called Heero for a ride to the hospital.

Now, it was months later and just two days ago, Quatre was finally able to move the tiniest bit. The first stage of his recovery had been anything but pleasant. When Trowa arrived at exactly four thirty pm yesterday, he found his future spouse in a heated argument with Nurse Greta. Gigantic busts jiggled with every movement of his most enthused admirer. This seemed to fuel Quatre's anger. Nurse Greta had been accused by Quatre of trying to seduce Trowa inappropriately. Quatre, in turn, was accused of being too skinny for Trowa to find the least bit attractive. Quatre had thrown a fit then. It had been ugly and Trowa was expecting a repeat of it today if not for the fact that Nurse Greta was off-duty. He sighed with relief. He'd wanted to spend some quality alone time with non-vegetative Quatre for a while now.

As he walked into the private room of his only love, Trowa found the usually affable blonde holding on tightly to a teddy bear's head.

"Quatre," he greeted with caution as he entered. Now that he was up and about, Quatre had become hot-tempered.

"What?" Quatre asked in irritation.

"You're not going to rip the head off that bear, are you?"

A furious look was immediately directed his way.

"I am not five Trowa!" Quatre said with much fury as he pointed at the abused teddy bear in his hand and all the others surrounding him. There were several, ones that Trowa had brought over the weeks. He couldn't help it. The first time he placed a bear next to Quatre the darn thing looked perfectly adorable. Due to an influx of cute, Trowa thought it necessary to add to the gloomy atmosphere. Before he knew it, there were at least 12 stuffed animals surrounding Quatre on his bed.

"But they're... adorable," Trowa explained, which earned him a bunny in the face.

Quatre turned away from him and crossed his arms. Trowa blinked in response. The mood swings were so unlike him. He was usually calm and his anger was controlled for the most part. Perhaps being immobile for so long had made him irritable to the point of anger. Trowa couldn't blame him. Duo's visit just a few days back was enough to provoke the usually mature Quatre. Their lively friend had commented about the stuffed animals in jest. He'd called Quatre a baby then and the blonde could do nothing but internally fume from where he was. Surely he'd wanted to punch Duo for a while now.

It didn't stop there either. Heero's visits had been anything but pleasant. The seasoned photographer kept on taking shot after shot of him, threatening that he'd sell the pictures to the newspapers. It was only upon Trowa's request that Heero agreed to keep the pictures to himself for blackmail purposes and nothing more. It wasn't exactly a great compromise, but it was a compromise all the same.

"About everyone who came to visit," Trowa started in his attempt to make Quatre feel better. "They were just kidding, love."

If it was even possible, Quatre crossed his arms tighter.

"I'm pretty sure Wufei wasn't kidding," he replied as his face scrunched up in a frown.

That was true. Wufei's sermon, which lasted for hours (and he counted), was tiring. It came to a point where he had actually left the room with the excuse that he was picking up some food at the hospital's cafeteria despite his distaste for the variety they served. Wufei, when allowed to talk, could go on forever.

"You don't know what it feels like not being able to defend yourself," Quatre continued with a bit of a pout.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Trowa sat beside the patient with caution. He positioned himself so that he was facing Quatre's pouting face. With all the guts he could muster against a professional combatant in his own right, Trowa put his arms around him. He felt thin, thinner that he had been long before he was incapable of feeding himself. Three months had really taken a toll on him.

"I promise that you could beat them up all you want later," he said in consolation. "I'll even drop you off at their places and pick you up once they're a bloody pulp."

Quatre placed his head on Trowa's shoulder and sniffed. Trowa's eyes grew wide in response. No. He wasn't crying, but was Quatre letting himself be babied? This was a new and exciting discovery.

"I'll kick your ass if you tell anyone about this," he warned as he grabbed the front of Trowa's shirt and held on. "Besides, you owe me an ass-kicking anyway for letting that nurse pinch your ass right in front of me when I couldn't even protest."

Trowa smiled, delighted that Quatre was no longer incensed enough to start screaming again. It was taking a lot to calm him down nowadays. It seemed like the childish part of him that had been repressed all his life was starting to break free. All he needed, Trowa understood, was someone to take care of him the way he took care of everyone else. He'd taken the initiative to do it himself. After all, he was looking forward to a long, lasting relationship; never mind the fact that Quatre had not agreed to any sort of relationship with him. It was a little detail he postponed discussing. From the moment he laid eyes on Quatre, he'd already planned the romantic dinners and walks on the beach. It was only a matter of getting him to comply with those daydreams.

"I'm sorry I let her pinch me," Trowa said, not knowing what else to say. "I'll make it up to you alright?"

Quatre nodded with his head still buried in his neck.

"But first, we have to get you out of here."

It was true. Trowa was sick of the room and he had something special planned for them, something he invested his time and money on. He couldn't wait to get started.

oOo

"What did you do - tie him to the seat?"

Trowa shook his head. Was getting Quatre to sit in a car and stay there such a rare phenomenon that it required incredulous questioning?

"He's wearing his seatbelt?" Trowa said in a half-stating, half-questioning tone of voice.

"And he didn't struggle to get out of the seat? He just sat there and complied?"

Trowa nodded.

"Man Quatre, you are one whipped son of a--"

"Duo!" Trowa scolded. This was not the time to provoke Quatre. It was hard enough to get him to calm down from earlier.

Trowa turned to check on how Quatre was doing inside the car. His current ward was giving Duo a nasty look from where he sat but made no move to get out. Had he been at full capacity, it would have been ugly.

"Look," Trowa said, trying to explain his piece as fast and as pain-free as possible. "I need a couple of days off. Can you do that for me?"

"You're asking for a couple of days off to spend with him when he's not hyperactive and he's incapacitated enough that he'll be submissive and weak? Are you kidding me? That's a wet dream come true. There's no way I'm rigging the system for you."

From the car, Quatre gave Duo a very heartfelt middle finger.

"But," Duo added as he entwined his fingers behind his head. "I'll do it for you because I do _not_ want to be on Blondie's hit list."

Trowa figured that it was best not to tell Duo that he was already on that list for the teasing he'd done in the hospital.

"Thank you," Trowa said with relief. He'd already packed Quatre and all their necessities for the next few days. If Duo didn't give in to his request, he would have to spend the rest of the day putting everything back to where it came from - including Quatre who still wasn't supposed to be out of the hospital. He lost mobility from time to time and was supposed to be under observation. Q30ZO was not a drug you picked up in the streets and was therefore more difficult to predict. Trowa had convinced the medical staff that he'd performed studies of the drug himself and was perfectly capable of predicting the outcomes. In truth, he didn't get past observing the substance's withdrawal effects, but Quatre gave him a look. The look said that he better get him out of there or there was no future for them.

In the end, Trowa discovered himself to be a very convincing speaker despite the lack of alcohol. The doctors - all three who were attending to him - signed the release papers. It was now time for step two.

"You owe me," Duo said as he walked down the steps to the car parked below. "I want videos."

Trowa followed close behind just in case Quatre lost his cool. Duo was really not helping with the teasing. It was almost like he wanted to provoke him or maybe he just wanted Quatre to gouge his eyes out.

"Duo," Trowa warned again as his co-worker got closer. Right now, Quatre was a wild animal. It was best to observe him from afar.

"Are you going to be back by Saturday or what? The kids are wondering where you are," Duo said while leaning into Quatre's open window.

"Yeah," Quatre answered. His voice was hoarse from a combination of months of disuse and hours of screaming.

"Great. Now behave for Trowa alright?" Duo added before pushing back against the side of the car. "This guy learned how to drive for you, so you might as well cut him some slack for cavorting with the nurse while you were out."

"I did not--" Trowa defended before he felt the magnified frown coming from Quatre. Duo was quite the character. He could never tell if the guy was in his side or not.

"So," Duo said, prolonging the monosyllabic word. "The two of you should head on out before I change my mind."

Trowa took that as his cue to leave. Any more time around Duo and he was afraid that he was going to be in deeper trouble. In fact, he was pretty sure of it with the way the guy was smirking at him.

"We should go," he said as he entered the vehicle. He hoped that the winding roads to their destination wouldn't be a problem. He'd just gotten his driver's license just two weeks ago.

oOo

"How long do I have to wear this blindfold?"

The question was simple, but the way it was delivered was rather half-hearted. Trowa could not tell if he was irritated or simply bored out of his mind from sitting on the passenger seat for almost an hour. Quatre was the driver, the doer, the same guy who scrubbed his bathroom tiles until they were whiter than celebrity teeth. For him to let Trowa do as he wished was a miracle, an impossibility in and of itself. It made him resolute to deal with the mood swings because he knew that Quatre was behaving for him. Then again, perhaps Duo's earlier advice had something to do with it.

"We'll be there soon," Trowa replied without taking his eyes off the road. That was a cardinal rule, especially since he'd only started getting the hang of driving curved roads. It was only regrettable that he didn't get to stare at Quatre as much as he wanted to. Now was the perfect opportunity to observe him and think silly thoughts to himself. His eyes unconsciously strayed sideways.

"Stop daydreaming and watch where you're going," Quatre said, interrupting his thoughts.

Trowa blinked before turning the car a sharp right to avoid the jagged cliffs below. How Quatre knew that they were going to fly off the steep mountain with a blindfold on was beyond him; unless, of course, he already knew where they were going. That thought made him frown. A surprise just wasn't a surprise when the recipient already knew what the intended surprise was.

"Your disappointment is radiating in waves," Quatre said while lounging with a blasé kind of posture on his seat. "Trust me. I don't know exactly what you have planned for me. I just have a pretty good guess. That's all."

Trowa nodded. Needless to say, he was still disappointed. He continued to keep quiet and keep his eyes on the road. About a minute ticked by when he felt long, skinny fingers brush against his hand.

"Huh?"

It was all he could say as those same fingers crawled up his arm.

"I pretty much sound like an ungrateful prick, huh?" Quatre said. The same hand withdrew its not quite hold.

"You're just... bored," Trowa reasoned for him. Just as he said it, their destination came into full view. He couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of coming back to this place.

"It's not boredom per say," Quatre continued without realizing that they've stopped. "It's more like concern. If you're going to put me in a convalescent home, you might as well not have picked something in the middle of nowhere. I mean, how am I going to plan my escape from a place this far out?" His voice seemed to pick up with every word.

"Wait," Trowa said, pausing midway through getting out of the car. "Convalescent home? Like a rehabilitation center?"

He began to laugh. That was the most absurd thing that he could have ever thought of.

"Hey," Quatre said with a start. "That isn't funny! You better not have enrolled me in a mental institution instead."

With his blindfold still on and his near frantic way of talking, Trowa almost lost it. This must have been the reason why he was cranky. Even when Quatre's prediction did make some sense, Trowa was a bit horrified at the thought of leaving him alone with strangers after his trying ordeal. He deserved better and better was what he revealed as he pulled the blindfold out of Quatre's head.

"I promise I'll be good," Quatre pleaded like a child.

"I think you'll like this better," Trowa said. He stepped out of the vehicle and helped Quatre out and just when he looked like he was ready to make a run for it, he stopped with his eyes twinkling in pure delight.

"No way!" he said with disbelief.

Before Trowa could confirm that it was, indeed, the vacation home they visited months back, Quatre was already running to the inside of the house. Trowa followed with a spring in his step. He did plan it out right after all. Even Quatre's father gave him an approving look from the too-lifelike picture hanging in the corridor.

"Don't get too excited," Trowa warned as he carried their luggage inside their temporary shelter. "You might get an episode."

He'd been worried that Quatre's paralysis would strike again just like it did before they left the hospital. When Quatre got too excited, his body shut down and just like that, he was unable to move. It mostly looked like he had passed out with his eyes open. It was a bit unnerving.

"Uh huh," Quatre's voice resounded from the other end of the house.

Trowa raised a brow. Quatre was quick to go out back.

"Oh no," he whispered to himself as he realized just why.

Running outside to stop the eager blonde, Trowa arrived just in time to see Quatre run and strip down to nothing in five seconds flat. He bypassed the pool only to find his way to the edge of the steep elevation. He must have expected sea water to greet him down below. Indeed, Quatre's sexy behind made a quick exhibition before disappearing into the edge he had jumped off from. Luckily, Trowa had thought about his penchant for danger beforehand.

"What the hell?" Quatre screamed.

Trowa heard the sound of rope stretching. He followed the source of the distressed question at a slow pace. He rather liked what he did with the place while Quatre was out. He snuck a peek down below to check the status of his successful catch when he suddenly fell backwards and landed on his own behind. This was not what he expected. Quatre was down there alright - in the net he had installed that was meant to cover most of the cove. It had taken hours of labor and a bit of cash to get the net strong enough to withstand their body masses and to attach it to the mountains surrounding it. What he didn't expect was to find Quatre's naked body caught in the middle of the web. It didn't help either that the subject of his favorite dreams was crossing his arms in annoyance, leaving the rest of him bare for the entire world to see.

"And how would you like to explain this?" Quatre demanded from where he lay.

Trowa could not speak as he stared at his very angry prey.

"I, ah," he said.

Somebody sure was horny. He slapped himself once. Now was not the time to think about that. For the first time ever, Quatre was weak. There was no way they were going to do _that_ without landing him in the hospital again.

With reluctance and great effort, Trowa retrieved a pair of pajamas and threw it down to where Quatre was.

"Wear it," he said in haste. "You don't want to get sick," he added as an afterthought before he ran to one of the rooms to grab some pillows and a blanket.

"Fine!" Quatre screamed from below. "But you might as well join me," he said, this time more subdued. "The view is great from down here."

Trowa threw their beddings for the night into the net below.

"The view was much better up here," he muttered to himself.

Careful that he wouldn't fall on Quatre as he made his descent, Trowa climbed down the rope ladder he'd installed together with the net. He was surprised when Quatre greeted him with a warm embrace. His back felt nice against the now clothed chest.

"Thank you," Quatre said before giving his neck a very brief kiss. "It's just what I wanted."

Delighted with the positive response, Trowa nodded in affirmation. He looked back to find that their makeshift bed was ready. With the sun dimming in the background, Trowa thought that this, above anything else, was the perfect setting. Jumping down the last step, he fell backwards into the net. The act caused Quatre to fall right next to him. It was just the right spot so that he was able to put his arm around the other's stomach and curl into his body. Quatre did not protest, only complied with the position he was placed in and sighed.

"And this is just what I wanted," Trowa said as he, too, kissed Quatre on the neck.

While he did love the exhilaration of the chase, he couldn't deny that a quiet evening with a non-protesting Quatre in his arms was satisfying. He declared mission accomplished. The game, for now, was won by him.


End file.
